


The Way You Breathe

by EmptyWithout



Series: The Way You Breathe [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Kidnapping, Kissing, M/M, Slow Burn, Torture, Wincest - Freeform, dean and sam - Freeform, sam and dean - Freeform, soul mates, spells
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-06-21 23:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 34,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15568395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmptyWithout/pseuds/EmptyWithout
Summary: This is a Sam and Dean story. It takes place in the same universe, just a few minor different things…also: crying, pining, kidnapping, envelopes, torture, spells, drinking, crying, Soulmate/Wincest (but not much smut. Maybe one scene?), hand holding, heart eyes, kissing, touching, breath play, tenderness, martial arts, crying, mind reading, dancing, death of minor characters, pain, bruising, lots of crying, nightmares, Hurt!Sam, Protective!Dean, Powers!Sam, oh yeah, and some crying…This not just a Sam and Dean love story. We discover how it all began, what it means for them, and how they survive the tragedies they endure along the way.This is quite a long story, you guys. Probably at least 20 chapters, so stay tuned for more as often as I can!!





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a long fic, guys. I'll update as often as I can!

**Before (prologue) – WHEN IT ALL BEGAN**

  
It unfolded slowly over time, this weird pull between them. Slow. Simple. Easy. (and almost imperceptible). But Sam distinctly remembers when it first happened, what started it all, the exact moment - changing both of their lives forever.

  
~~

  
Sam was eleven. Bobby, John, and Dean were gone on a hunt that night. A vampire’s nest. They’d been gone for three days. Sam was always afraid when they left. Not just because he wanted them to come home safe - it was more than that. He was afraid of being alone. (Of course, he never told them that). I mean, he once had Sully, which helped, but that was a while ago. Sully had been gone ever since Sam ditched him that one time. When he realized Sully was gone for good, he didn’t want to hunt anymore. Sully had been right. It wasn’t what he wanted at all.

  
So John, muttering, “make up your damn mind, boy,” left his little boy home all alone.

  
Sam hated the cold, quiet, empty house. Every small noise made him cringe. Being completely alone scared him more than anything. Which is probably why the demon picked him in the first place. Fear could be used in so many ways. That and the fact that little Sammy was destined to be Lucifer’s vessel. Yeah, that, too.

  
The fact that he was both of those things made her decision easy. She knew Sam was the one. She knew what Azazel had done when Sam was six months old, and she wanted in on it. It was winter now, with a foot of snow on the ground. The house was freezing. And Sam was alone. And vulnerable. She came at night, when she knew he’d be even more afraid. She’s been watching him for years. She knew exactly what Sam feared. She knew what she needed to do.

  
Sam was on the bed in the spare room upstairs, curled up under three blankets, his nose in a book. Without warning, the door swung open, slamming against the wall. Sam screamed, terrified of her sudden presence in the room.

  
“Hello Sammy,” said the woman. Her voice was like syrup, slow and sweet. Even though he was frightened, he couldn’t look away. Her eyes flashed black. Sam’s eyes opened wide and he pushed himself to the head of the bed, looking around for something that could be used as a weapon.

  
He knew what demons were.

  
“What do you want?” Sam’s small, terrified voice cried out. Tears spilled from his cheeks. His body shook. He was still looking for a weapon of some kind. There was nothing but the book in his hand. And it was just a paperback. Which he now squeezed so tightly, the pages started to tear.

  
“You Sam. I want you.” She walked closer to him, striding right up to the bed and pointing a long finger in his face. He still trembled, afraid to move now. His heart was pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it. “But not yet. Not until you are ready. You do need a little push, though, to get you going on this ride. And I’m going to help you with that.”

  
“What are y-you talking about,” Sam stammered. He couldn’t look away from her. She just seemed to pull him in.

  
The demon walked even closer, placing her left knee on the bed. Sam flinched. She waved her hand, and Sam was frozen in place. He stared at her, scared of what was coming next, praying his dad and brother would come home.

  
But the demon merely leaned forward, placing both of her hands on Sam’s cheeks. Sam was unable to close his eyes, and he looked right into her black ones - which momentarily flashed silver. Sam blinked. She looked directly in his eyes, making him look into hers as she spoke.

  
“No need to fear me Sam. I’m going to give you a wonderful present. Then I’m going to come back and you’re going to thank me. And then you’re going to join me.” Her smile was wicked. Her eyes flashed black again. She leaned forward and gave him a swift kiss on the lips. Sam’s heart thrummed even harder. Was this what a heart attack felt like?  
Sam gathered whatever courage he had inside him and said, “I’ll never go with you!” but his voice shook.

  
The demon smiled, slowly releasing her hands from his cheeks, her hands dragging down his face. Sam’s body went limp. He immediately felt a rush of warmth all over, as if gentle hands were holding him, soothing him, protecting him. Running their fingers softly through his hair. The hands were familiar. He knew those hands. He knew that smell. He knew he was safe. He closed his eyes and sighed, letting the feeling surround him.

  
“That’s right, Sam Winchester. Take my gift. You’ll thank me later.” Sam drifted off into darkness quietly, surrounded by love as the demon simply disappeared.

  
**

  
“Sam? Sammy!” Sam felt Dean’s hands on his cheeks as he woke up. “You ok there bro? Oh, thank god! You has us worried for a minute when you didn’t wake up.” Sam opened his eyes to see his brother’s face, his Dad and Bobby in the background. All had worried expressions. He felt very groggy and his mouth was dry. The paperback was still gripped tightly in his hand. Dean gently removed it, carefully prying Sam’s hands away. Dean’s safe, familiar hands. Sam loosened his grip, letting Dean take it away. Dean lowered his voice to where it was soft and soothing. “Hey – Sammy - seriously, are you ok?” Sam breathed in his brother’s scent – a combination of dirt, grass, sunshine, gunpowder, and yes, a little whiskey even.

  
It took Sam a moment to fully orient himself back to where he was. He felt heavy and sluggish. He blinked and realization finally set in.

  
He practically leapt into his brother’s arms.

  
Dean laughed. Not a teasing laugh, but a happy laugh. He hugged Sam right back.

  
“Oh Dean, you’re home!” Sam grabbed his fifteen year old brother and held him close. “I had…I had the scariest dream, Dean! It was so real! It was so - ” Sam pulled back, grabbing both of Dean’s hands in his, and looked directly into Dean’s eyes. For a split second – as long as it takes someone to blink, Sam thought he saw a flash of silver in them. But it was so fast, and so unrealistic, Sam’s mind dismissed it as quickly as he saw it.

  
Dean breathed heavily, and blinked slowly, as if relief had washed over him.

  
Then there was the pull. Both boys felt it. Neither acknowledged it. But it was there.

  
Dean smiled, “good to see you again, kid.” He tousled Sam’s hair.

  
Sam felt a shiver run down his entire body.

  
Something was different.

 


	2. The Hotel Thing (five years later)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We find out a bit more about what the demon did to Sam a few years before...

Of course, then there was the hotel thing. (Did I mention it was Sam’s 17 ½ th birthday? One does not usually celebrate half birthdays, but, you know, this day was special.)

Sam had been sitting on the floor (yes, he was reading again) when Dean and their dad came bursting through the door. Sam had practically jumped onto the couch, he was so startled by the door banging against the wall. (For some reason that always made him flinch. And actually, made his heart beat loudly in his chest, but he never shared _that_ with anyone.) Dean had his dad on one shoulder and carried a shotgun in the other hand. A large duffle was slung over his other shoulder as well. Dad was drunk again. Very drunk. Sam lifted a finger and pointed at his brother.

“Did he – “

“No Sam, I drove. Not to worry, ok? I made sure we both got back safe. Seriously. No worries.” Dean flashed him a brilliant smile and Sam shivered.  Dean set his father down gently on the bed closest to the door and took off his shoes for him. John rolled over and groaned.

“He’ll be out for a while,” said Dean, sighing and shaking his head. “Just a tad too much whiskey tonight.”

“Yeah, just a tad,” said Sam, sarcastically. He looked up at Dean and shivered again. Sam didn’t notice. Dean did.

“You ok there, Sammy?” Dean started unpacking his bag and safely storing the guns and knives they had used on the hunt.  (It should probably be noted that Sam didn’t ever hunt with John and Dean. This pissed off John, to the point where he belittled Sam at every opportunity. Dean, however, wasn’t bothered in the slightest. He’d rather Sam stay out of it. That way, Sam was safe.) Dean took off his own boots and jacket and placed them on the chair by the window.

Sam just looked at Dean, somehow distracted. He remembered Dean had asked him a question and he nodded his head yes. But Sam suddenly felt weirdly dizzy and wobbled a bit on the couch. Dean frowned and put down his armful of ammunition. He went and sat next to Sam, his knee brushing up against Sam’s. Sam flinched. Dean pretended not to notice.

“Really? Are you cold? Not feeling well? What’s up?” Dean raised his eyebrows, concern etched into his eyes. He reached his hand out to Sam, tucking his hair behind his ear. It was a casual move, really. Dean wanted to check for a fever or something. (Plus he just wanted that touch assurance thing, ya know?) Sam swallowed, blushing.

Sam squinted, suddenly a bit confused. His brain was sending him mixed signals. “No, I’m fine, really. Was just startled, is all. The door, it just - yeah, I’m cool.” But he turned away from Dean, unable to look him in the eye. He picked his book up and looked for the place where he’d stopped reading.

“Yeah, ok then, “said Dean skeptically. He did not believe his brother, but let it go. For now. He got back up to finish putting away the weapons.

Sam actually hadn’t been able to look his brother in the eye for months. (Years, really. But ever since about six months ago, he just stared feeling…weird around him.) It was a shift he wasn’t able to explain. He was entranced by everything Dean did. And that smile? Sam likened it to sunshine on a cloudy day. He basked in the presence of his brother. Dean just made everything…better. It was hard to describe. (“and weird as hell,” thought Sam)

But what he really couldn’t look away from? Dean’s eyes. So green. Something deep and painful and beautiful resided within those eyes. And Sam couldn’t stop looking. His eyes just sort of – pulled him in.

It was weird. He just – wanted to be in Dean’s presence. He just felt… _better_ when Dean was around. He smiled more, He breathed better – it didn’t make any sense. But Sam couldn’t help it. It was if a wave carried him along and he was powerless to resist it.

Dean finished putting away the weapons, and sat down next to Sam, putting his hand on his knee, staring at him. Sam tried to concentrate on his book. But Dean was _right there_. Sitting very close. He could practically feel Dean’s warm breath on his neck. Sam looked up from his book and found himself looking directly into Dean’s eyes. It was almost hypnotic. He felt a buzzing in his ears that started low and just grew in both sound and tone, and his body just went numb. The eyes drew him in, and Sam instinctively leaned forward, licking his lips.

“Hey!” Dean leaned back, putting his hand on Sam’s shoulder, stopping his forward movement. He laughed quietly. His voice was gentle, soft. He still looked right into the eyes of his brother and breathed, “whatcha doing there, Sammy?”

Sam blinked. He suddenly realized what he had done and covered his mouth with his hand. The buzzing in his ears stopped. He started breathing quickly. His face turned red and he leapt off the couch, running to the bathroom, tripping over the side table as he did. (He’d definitely have a bruise on his calf tomorrow.)

“Shit Dean, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” he said, slamming the door behind him. (“What the hell was that?” Sam thought.)

“Dammit,” Dean said to himself as he watched his little brother tear himself off the couch and dash for the bathroom. He rubbed his hand down his face, shaking his head. He looked behind him and saw his dad completely passed out on the bed. He looked back at the bathroom door, listening to his brother sobbing behind it. Dean shook his head and stood up. It was time. Something had to be done.

Dean walked across the room and knocked on the bathroom door.

“Hey Sammy, you ok in there?”

“No! Go away, Dean leave me alone.” Dean could hear Sam crying, though.

“Sammy, it’s ok, just…seriously, just come here.” He kept his voice calm.

“I don’t. Want you. To hate me.” He choked out the words slowly between sobs..

Dean closed his eyes tightly. He hung his head, shaking it slightly. He hated hearing this from his brother. “Sam, I’m not going to hate you. Please?”

“You’re gonna think I’m a freak. You are. You’re gonna _hate_ me!” Sam’s was sobbing now, barely getting out the words.

Dean’s lips drew into a tight line. “No Sammy. No way in hell. Listen. I…look, dad’s passed out, he won’t even hear us, come on. Let’s just talk. You’re worrying me here, ok. Just let me help.”

There was a pause while Dean let Sam think it over. He waited. About a minute later, the sobbing had died down and Dean heard the click of a lock. Sam opened the door a crack and saw Dean standing right there, waiting patiently. So he stepped out of the bathroom slowly, wiping his eyes. They were red and puffy. Sam sniffled as he looked down at the carpet. Dean tried to put his arm around Sam, but Sam pulled away, turning his back.

“Dean, I can’t. I…I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You don’t even know. I just…I just can’t have you touching me, ok? I’m…I’m not supposed to…I mean I can’t…” but Dean interrupted him.

“Sammy.” Dean took a deep breath, rubbing his hand along the back of his own neck. There were several more seconds of silence before Dean spoke again. He wiped his hand on his pants, trying to get rid of the nervous dampness. He hadn’t wanted it to come out this way. Dean stammered, searching for the right words. “I…Sammy, I…dammit, I feel it too, ok?

“What?” Sam slowly turned around. Dean had that horrible, amazing, beautiful smile again. Dean shrugged his shoulders. “Let me guess. Buzzing in your ears? Heart racing whenever I’m around? I dunno what it is either Sam, ok? It’s just…it’s just there. It doesn’t mean anything, ok? I’m sure we can figure this out.” He reached out tentatively and gently squeezed Sam’s shoulder. Sam let him.

“Dean, you – you feel it too?” Dean just nodded. He didn’t look away.

“I do. But don’t feel bad about it. It’s not wrong, and I don’t hate you.”

“Dean, I…I tried to _kiss_ you.” Sam said, embarrassed.

Dean laughed. “Yeah ok, that was a little weird. But it’s ok, really. It really is. I get it. I do, Sam. You couldn’t help it. And, uh…it took a lot of will power for me to stop you. So yeah, weird. But…” he shrugged.

“Dean, what’s going on?” Sam whispered. He started to tremble.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Dean, I…I’m sorry, I should have told you earlier. It’s been…”

“Since your birthday, right?”

“What?” Sam was shocked.  Dean had pinpointed it exactly. “I mean, yeah, I think. But actually, Dean, this is…I mean, I was –“

“Eleven. I remember that day, too. That’s when it started, right? But all this…this is new. Since you turned seventeen. Right?”

Sam nodded, wiping his nose on his sleeve. He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation.

“It’s like…like a pull, right? Is that what you feel? Kinda like magnets?”

Sam was both relieved and concerned. He squinted slightly and looked closely at Dean’s face, trying to read his emotions. He saw nervousness and…well, he saw complete acceptance. He saw love.

“Yeah – Dean, it’s just – yes! I never thought of it like that, but yeah. The closer you are, the closer I feel the pull.”

Dean nodded again. “Yep. Same here.”

“Ok, well…” He still was nervous. “Dean, what’s wrong with me? With us?”

“Shut up Sammy, there’s nothing wrong with us. I don’t know what it is either. But we’ve been fine, we’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out, ok? We always do. We don’t have to _do_ anything about it. Just go with it, ok? You know I’d never hurt you.”

Sam just nodded.

“Ok then. There it is, it’s out there, in the open. And you’re safe, ok?” He turned to look at their dad again. “Ain’t no way he’ll find out, though.  Promise.”

Sam just nodded, still in shock at the whole conversation.

“Do you think maybe it’s a spell?”

“Probably.”

“So I – I mean we – have been under a spell for what…five years now?”

Dean shrugged. “Guess so. Might not be able to break it now.”

“Oh.” Sam wasn’t even sure how to respond to that.

“Nothing we can do about it right now, though, ok? So we’ll look into it, maybe call Bobby the next time he isn’t around,” he pointed his thumb in John’s direction. “So right now? Now let’s just watch tv, or something, ok? Chill out? Now we know, and we can start to take action. Ok? You good with that, Sam?” Sam let out a deep breath and nodded. He let Dean take his hand and lead him to the couch. He sat down while Dean opened up the mini fridge and took out their dad’s whiskey.

“Dean, that’s dad’s! He’s gonna be pissed!”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I won’t tell dad if you won’t.”

“Won’t he notice…?”

Dean furrowed his brows, looking over at his snoring father. “Nah, he’ll just think he drank it himself. Let’s drink out of the bottle, ok? We can share.” Dean’s smile was amazing.

Dean handed Sam the bottle and watched him wrap his lips around the rim. Sam took a deep swallow and shivered a bit as it went down. “Gah! That’s awful!”

Dean laughed. “You get used to it.” He took the bottle from Sam, their fingers brushing.

“Dean.” Sam’s voice was shaky. Dean could tell he was nervous.

Dean sighed and took another swig. “I don’t know why Sammy. It’s just a weird… _pull_ , I don’t know…It just is. Ok? Anything we do or don’t do is…” he waved his hand in the air, “whatever…ok? It just…is.”

“Ok Dean.” Sam trusted his brother more than anything.

Dean held out the bottle again and Sam took it. They sat on opposite ends of the couch, not touching. Just sitting, trying not to look at each other. (it was actually pretty amusing if you were an outside observer, but to both boys it was fairly intense.)

Dean changed the channel and they passed the bottle back and forth, occasionally taking another swig. Sam winced and shuddered every time he took a swallow, and every time Dean laughed at him. “You’ll get the hang of it eventually, little bro…” and he ruffled Sam’s hair, returning his hand to his own lap. Sam seemed more relaxed now, and he settled further into the couch, tucking his feet up under him and leaning closer to his brother.

~~

They had settled on a marathon of _The Three Stooges_ , passing the bottle to each other every once in a while. They laughed at the shenanigans but they didn’t talk to each other. They glanced at each other a few times, but every time, redness creeped up Sam’s cheeks. Dean didn’t want to embarrass the kid, so he did his best to not look at him after that.

~~

It had been almost a whole episode when Sam realized Dean hadn’t passed him the bottle since the first commercial. Sam took a shaky breath and looked over at his brother. Dean’s eyes were closed and he was breathing steadily. He had passed out. Sam smiled, taking the empty bottle out of his hands and putting it in the garbage can. He picked up his brother’s feet, and turned him so he was lying on the couch. (He wasn’t quite strong enough to lift him just yet, and he didn’t want to wake him.)

“This is all kinds of messed up,” he thought to himself.

Sam pulled the top blanket off of the second bed and threw it over his brother. “Night, Dean.” He smiled, and placed a hand to Dean’s cheek. Then he went over to the bed and crawled under the sheet and throw blanket that still remained. He glanced at his father, who was now snoring loudly, still on top of the bed, still in his street closed, still completely passed out. He looked over at his older brother one more time, just watching him breathe.  After several minutes, he pulled the blankets up around him and drifted off to sleep.


	3. The Birthday Kidnapping (5 years after The Hotel Thing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes quite a bit of a flashback, to give some backstory to our brothers and what they’ve done since that night in the hotel. Flashbacks are italicized.

_~~_

It was quite possibly the best day of Sam’s life. He had just turned 22, and he was out celebrating his birthday with Dean. Just the two of them, out for a couple of drinks at the bar. Nothing special, really. Sam was laughing and having a wonderful time. He was feeling pleasantly buzzed when he felt his brother’s eyes on him. He turned and returned the soft smile he saw on Dean’s face.

“Like what you see, Dean?” Sam’s words slurred slightly.

Dean nodded silently, reaching up to stroke Sam’s chin. He laughed, shaking his head, still unsure of everything. This whole thing with Sam had unfolded so gradually. Ever since that night - that night in the hotel where everything came to light.

After that, there was the brushing up against each other in the hallway, fingers touching, that sort of thing. Then the lingering gazes…

_Bobby tried to help. They researched, they asked questions, and they explored every possible avenue – and found nothing. A year passed and nothing. So they had to let it go. They just started to accept this new – relationship, or whatever it was._

_So Bobby knew. He knew how they felt about each other. Never did tell John, either. (No reason to stir up that hornet’s nest, right?). And it was alright. Yeah, sure it was weird. But what wasn’t weird in his line of work?_

_They had never really acted on it. Not in that way, anyway. They didn’t really feel the need. They both decided that they were just drawn to each other and enjoyed each other’s company. They had held hands a few times and sat closely on the couch, knees pressed together, that sort of thing. But Dad was always around and Sam was very uncomfortable. Dean had kissed Sam on the head a few times, but Sam was always asleep when he did this, and Dean relished this little secret. He loved being around Sam, and Sam loved being around him._

_But unfortunately, not everyone in the family got along as well._

_At the end of Sam’s senior year, John and Sam butted heads so often that arguing became a constant. John was always telling Sam he should be more like Dean. John was rough with Sam, too. Physically and mentally. Of course, Sam rebelled. John just got worse. He drank more and more and one day, his anger exploded when Sam once again refused to follow orders, and he punched his youngest son in the face. Sam dropped to the ground, and John kicked him in the stomach._

_“Why can’t you be more like Dean, you worthless shit!”_

_Dean had run into the room just then, right as Sam was starting to get up from the floor, blood dripping from his cut cheek. Dean grabbed his dad and pulled him away._

_“Dad, stop! What are you doing, stop!”_

_John just left the room, flexing and unflexing his fist._

_John hit him two more times after that. Dean was there to stop the second one, but was not there the third and final time._

_John had hit him so hard he’d cracked his son’s ribs, giving him a black eye and a split lip as well. Dean got back after John had left. He found Sam in the bathroom, crying on the floor._

_“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to stop him, Sammy.” He helped Sam to clean up, smoothing his hair back, giving him a kiss on the forehead. Sam looked up at that, his face softening. Through the sting on his lip, he smiled at his brother._

 

_Dean held him close and Sam sagged into his brother’s arms._

_~~_

_Eventually Sam couldn’t take any more of his Dad’s abuse. He left. There was, of course, a large argument, but John didn’t hit Sam. Dean was right there, standing between them._

_When they were alone again, Dean tried to get Sam to stay. He begged him. “What about us?” he asked quietly, right next to Sam’s ear._

_“What us?” said Sam softly, not backing away. “That’s not a thing, Dean. You know it.”  But he was fisting Dean’s shirt with tears in his eyes.  Dean pushed away from his brother. He stared at him for a few seconds, his breathing becoming quick and shallow. But he said nothing and walked out, leaving Sam alone._

_Sam didn’t see the tears in his brother’s eyes._

_So he had gone off to Stanford with those being the last words he spoke to his brother. He didn’t mean it. It just sort of – came out. He’d hoped it would make leaving easier._

_It didn’t._

_Without Sam, Dean began training even harder with John. He didn’t know any other way. He knew he couldn’t get out of this life if he tried. So Dean dove into hunting. It became his everything. It was all-consuming. Dean quickly became a lethal hunter._

_Even as young as 23, Dean was considered one of the best hunters in the country. Dean was proud of his accomplishments, but always felt like something was missing. He cried of course, when Sam left. A few times. But he did it privately. During the first year, he thought about how much he missed his brother often, and tried calling him, but was ignored. Eventually, hunting completely consumed him and he stopped thinking about Sam all the time._

_Sam never stopped thinking about Dean, though. He went to college, regretting the last words he said to him. But he couldn’t go back. He knew he didn’t belong in that world. That hunting world. So he stayed. He ignored Dean’s calls until they stopped, about halfway through his second year. He had to. He knew it was for the best. (Right? It was for the best?) Every day he felt the loss of his brother – as if an arm had been removed from his body. In his junior year, he fell in love with Jess…but still something was off. Something wasn’t right. He knew what it was, but tried desperately to get rid of those feelings. He had Jess, she was amazing, and he truly loved her. He figured he’d eventually move on. But he never did. He never thought he’d see his brother again._

_But then Dean came to Stanford._

_Then of course, the whole thing with Azazel and losing Dad. It had been very difficult for both of them. Sam was quietly relieved John was gone, but still was upset at the loss of his father. It was very confusing. Dean had almost died in that car accident, and Sam felt his world being torn apart. He had lost Jess in the fire, and he lost his entire new path in his life. His plan to live life away from hunting – a life he wanted desperately – had fallen apart.  He was forced back into hunting._

_But it also brought him back to Dean._

_So he dropped out of school and joined Dean. Even with all the changes and loss and heartache, Sam felt much more whole now. He knew his world was changing. They both did. They were entering new territory, and now that things had settled down, it was time to explore it._

_Dean had forgotten how his brother made him feel. When he hugged him for the first time again, all the memories and feelings came flooding back to him. Sam held him like he was hanging on for his life. Dean knew then his brother never forgot. He realized how much he had actually missed Sam._

_Sam fell right back into where they were before. He almost tingled with electricity when they were finally alone together, with no monsters currently on their back._

_And now their dad was gone and they really had no reason to try and hide it anymore. And the pull was stronger than ever._

_So they let it all unfold naturally. They never talked about it, it just…was._

_Dean thought the whole thing was adorable, the way Sam looked at him. He remembered how they left things – angry, bitter, things unexplored, hanging – he remembered feeling empty. Why did he forget about these feelings, he wondered. But it no longer mattered. They were back together again and Sam said he was staying. Dean was overjoyed. He found himself wanting to just be around Sam more and more, in his presence, just touching his skin.  He enjoyed Sam’s energy._

_Sam’s energy was almost overwhelming._

_So a few months passed, and they went out to celebrate Sam’s birthday. Dean was ready to see if they should try something new. He was terrified, too._

_~~_

It was a calm, relaxed, fun evening. They kept drinking, laughing and talking about nothing at all. They casually played pool, a round of darts with some other guys in the bar, teasing the kid who snuck in who clearly wasn’t 21 yet.  It felt good to leave monsters behind for a while.

Dean watched Sam out of the corner of his eye.

Sam watched Dean out of the corner of his eye.

They both enjoyed the teasing, or flirting, or whatever it was that they were doing. It was all in good fun.

After some time, Dean decided Sam had had enough to drink. He hadn’t been paying attention, and Dean had gotten his little brother a little too drunk, unfortunately. He _had_ a plan. He really just wanted him a little bit tipsy, but it was far too late for that.  He hoped he could still follow through on his plan.

He wanted to give Sam their first kiss tonight, under the stars.

“Time to go, alright, baby?” Dean had leaned over and whispered softly in Sam’s ear, his lips slightly grazing Sam’s earlobe. Sam shivered at the word. He liked it when Dean called him that.  His eyes crinkled up as his smile took over his face, dimples showing wildly. Sam nodded, finished the last of his whiskey, and stood up. He wobbled with his drunkenness, but Dean caught him by the elbow.

“You alright there, Sammy?”

Sam blushed, leaning in to his brother for support.

“Yeah, hey…I’m…I’m okayyyyy…” Sam slurred his words and gave Dean a thumbs up and a wink. Dean just rolled his eyes and smiled back at his brother.

“OK. Well I think we’re gonna walk for a bit first, ok? I don’t think I’m quite ready to drive. I don’t think you’re ready to…well to do much of anything. You ok with that?” Sam, still hazy, nodded as the room spun around him. He closed his eyes and grabbed Dean’s arm for support, leaning in to him as they walked out. Dean put his arm around his waist and pulled him close. He smiled, knowing Sam was safe in his arms.

Sam just giggled, leaning on Dean.

They walked out of the bar into the cool crisp air, and Dean moved his arm from Sam’s shoulder to around Sam’s waist.  “Hey, happy birthday, little brother,” breathed Dean, trying not to be too obvious. He wanted to drag this out as long as possible. Take his time with this. His heart was beating incredibly fast. He lowered his arm and their hands brushed up against each other. Without a word from either of them, they entwined their fingers together.  They did not look at each other, just squeezed once lightly, wordlessly continuing through the parking lot.

“Yeah, my bir…my birfday! Let’s celebrate meee!” Sam still slurred his words, laughing as he walked beside his brother.

“Goofball.” Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna have to remember what a lightweight you are.”

“Hey!” Sam said in mock anger, raising his left hand and pointing at Dean. “I am soooo not a lightweight, ok?”

Dean grinned. “Ok dude, whatever. But you _are_ a fun drunk.” Sam scoffed, but laughed right after.

As they walked, Dean could tell that Sam’s breathing was increasing, too. Was he nervous? Did he know what his plans were? But he quietly held his hand and kept walking through the parking lot. Suddenly Sam pulled on Dean’s arm, making him stop. Dean turned to him and smiled.

“What is it, Sammy?” Dean’s eyes twinkled in the gleam of the streetlight above. Sam giggled and swayed on his feet.

“Best birthday ever, Dean.” Sam was practically giddy.

Dean looked his brother in the eyes. “Yeah? You’re just drunk.”

Sam leaned in close and whispered, “You’ve mentioned that once or twice,” he nodded, adding, “Yep. Yes. I am. I am. Yepperoonie…” He poked his finger into Dean’s chest.

Dean laughed, tucking a stray hair behind Sam’s ear. “You’re cute. Seriously. But just wait, ok baby? I’ve got one more thing for you.” Dean raised Sam’s hand, kissed his knuckles, slowly let go of his hand, and walked backward a few paces.

“Wait here, ok?”

Sam reluctantly let go of Dean’s hand, watching him walk over a small mound of dirt near the tree line. He wobbled unsteadily on his feet. He waited a few moments, glancing around nervously. It was chilly and he suddenly felt uncomfortable. He looked around briefly but saw nothing. He brushed it off as his drunk imagination and took a deep breath. He couldn’t wait to see his birthday surprise. He had known Dean was planning something, but had no idea what to expect. He took another deep breath and waited for Dean to turn back towards him.

From somewhere behind Sam, came the sound of boots scuffling in the gravel. Neither brother heard them.

**~~**

It only took seconds. Dean had walked ahead about 10 steps while Sam waited, trying to keep his drunken balance, wondering what was coming next. Dean walked to the edge of the parking lot near the tree line to see if his setup was still intact. It was. Dean smiled as he looked at the blanket spread out on the ground just past the blacktop. Everything was ready. He smiled and shivered with nervousness. He knew he shouldn’t be nervous, but there it was. 

It was nothing that either brother expected, of course, out here in the middle of nowhere. (Well, not quite nowhere. But still.) They weren’t on high alert. There was no reason to be. They were on some down time. No monsters. No demons. Plus, they were close to Bobby’s and they knew the bar and the area well. There was no reason to have their guards up.  None at all.

But they should have.

As Dean was surveying his surprise, a figure had quietly crept up behind Sam, quickly hitting him across the back of the head. In his inebriated state, Sam was easily and immediately knocked out. He fell silently, crumpling to the ground. In a flash, two men appeared literally out of nowhere, grabbed him, and pulled him into the shadows of the night.  Just as they disappeared from the lit area, Dean turned around. He was smiling, ready to show his brother what he had planned for the two of them. He couldn’t wait. But his smile disappeared instantly.

Where was Sam?


	4. Where the Hell is My Brother?

“Sammy?” Dean walked back to where his brother had just been. Gone. Just like that, Sammy was gone. He raised his hands up, confused.

“Sam? Where’d you go, baby? Sammy?” There was no answer. There were only 3 other cars in the lot of the small bar on the edge of town. It was near closing time, so hardly anyone was still around.

He ran back to the bar, thinking maybe Sam had to run back to pee or something. But he wasn’t inside. And no one inside had seen him come back in either. They were all preoccupied with the closing routines and hadn’t noticed anything. He ran back outside to the car. He wasn’t at the impala, either.

Dean put his hands on top of his head. Now he was genuinely concerned. “Sammy!” he called out into the darkness.

 “Looking for someone?” Dean jumped about a foot as the stranger appeared out of nowhere. He was a short, fat man who walked with a cane. He had gray hair and thick glasses. Dean frowned. He hadn’t heard a car pull up, and this man was not one of the people he had just talked to inside. He had appeared silently, seemingly from thin air.

“Yes, my little brother, he was right here, now he’s just…gone!” Dean spoke carefully. He tried not to show the panic he was feeling inside. The man just stood there, looking at Dean. It made him very uncomfortable.

“Have you seen him?” Dean tried again. Finally the man spoke. His voice was very deep and had a gravelly tone to it.

“Ah yes. Tall fellow? Really good looking?” The man smiled gently, letting out a small, almost indiscernible laugh.

“I…what?” The hair on the back of Dean’s neck stood on end, and he slowly backed up.

The man’s smile transformed into a smirk. “Yes, Dean. We have Sam. No, you can’t have him back. Not yet anyway.”

“You son of a bitch!” Dean pulled out his knife but the man was gone. Simply vanished, as quietly as he had arrived.

“Sam?” Dean yelled into the open air.

Dean ran back to the Impala, desperate to get some help. As he sat down in the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition, he noticed a large white envelope on the passenger seat. His breath caught in his throat as he reached over and picked it up. He turned it over and over in his hands, unsure he wanted to see what was inside. With a shaky breath, and shaky hands, he opened it up and poured out its contents.

Inside were several pictures of both Sam and Dean, together and individually, taken from a distance at various locations. Three of them were taken from Bobby’s house in the last few days. With nowhere else as their home base, they had been staying there for a while during their down time. Of course, knowing he was being watched made him both uncomfortable and very mad. One piece of paper was inside.

He carefully unfolded it, closed his eyes for a moment to gather himself, and read it.

_Dean,_

_We know who you are. We know what you do. We’ve been watching for a while now. A long, long time, actually. And now we have Sam. You will get him back, eventually. There will be instructions forthcoming. We know where you are. We are still listening. We will still be watching. Do as you are told and Sam will be returned to you alive. Do otherwise, and his death will be the most painful, the most gruesome death you have ever seen. And you will see it, I’ll make sure of that._

_For now, wait. Do nothing else._

_Ciao._

Dean sobered up almost instantly.

“Oh God, no. Sammy…!” Dean sobbed into the steering wheel. He had been unable to protect his brother. Someone somewhere had him. Doing god knows what to him. Just as everything was about to change. Just as he had Sam right where he wanted to be with him. Why would anyone take him? Who was this person? What the fuck was going on?

Dean went through a whirlwind of emotions. He was pissed. Angry with himself for not hearing anything. For not noticing. He was supposed to be the best hunter there was… but now….He waited until his panicked sobs had subsided and took a deep breath. He’d do whatever it took to get him back.

He turned on his phone and called the second person in his contacts list.

Bobby answered on the 3rd ring.

“This better be good, I’m in the middle of-“

“Bobby, someone took Sam.” Dean tried to keep a steady voice, but he couldn’t control the shaking.

“What do you mean someone _took_ him?” Bobby’s voice was immediately on edge. “What the hell happened, Dean? Where are you?”

“I dunno, Bobby, he was here, then he wasn’t!” Dean explained the birthday evening out and told Bobby he had a surprise for Sam. He explained all about walking toward the woods, leaving Sam, standing alone, drunk behind him. He swears it had only been a few moments, but when he turned around, Sam was just gone.

Then he explained about the strange man and gave the best description he could. He had been tipsy and in shock, so he wasn’t sure he could be exact on his account of the situation.

Bobby listened carefully as Dean explained. He already knew the boys had a connection with each other, and now, after listening to Dean talk, and how his voice shook, he knew just how deep that feeling went. . He filed that away in his brain to deal with later.

Dean continued, “I went to my car, and there was this envelope, and it had pictures of us, us in your house, Bobby. They’ve been watching us, somehow, and there was this letter - it told me to wait for instructions. It said if I don’t do what they tell me to that they were gonna kill him. Bobby, they’re gonna kill him!” Dean was practically hyperventilating.

“Alright Dean, try to calm down. We’ll get him back. What kind of instructions?”

“I don’t know, but I’m falling apart here, Bobby. I need you, man.”

Dean heard glass breaking in the distance. Bobby had thrown his drink against the wall. “Alright Dean, for right now, until we figure out who has him, or what these instructions are, we need to get a plan together. You close to my place?”

Dean took some deep breaths and looked around. “Yeah, probably about eleven miles out.”

“Good. Go to my place. Key is where it always is. Drink some whiskey and wait. I’ll be there in about 4 hours.”

“But Bobby!” Dean wanted to take action now, but in his heart he knew Bobby was right. It was the middle of the night and he wanted to be sure he did whatever he was asked to do to get Sam back safely.

“We don’t have other options, boy! They told you to wait, right? So for now, get your ass to my place and we’ll sort this all out, ok?”

Dean nodded and wiped the tears away again. “Ok Bobby. Ok. We have to get him back. We have to. He has to be ok, I can’t –“

Bobby interrupted. “We’ll get him back, Dean. We will. One step at a time, ok?”

“Ok Bobby.” Dean swallowed, closing his eyes.

“I’ll be there as fast as I can, Dean. Gonna a few hours, ok? Dean? Breathe, ok. Try to stay calm. See you in the morning, kid.”

Dean hung up and rested his head on the steering wheel, crying until he had nothing left. When he finally stopped sobbing, he felt empty and numb. He put the car into reverse and drove slowly out of the parking lot.

“Dammit Sammy, I’m so sorry,” he said to the empty car.

**

Dean drove the eleven miles cursing himself. He didn’t turn on the radio or the heater, for that matter. He sat in silence, in the cold, tears falling down his cheeks. He was shaking the whole time. He flashed back to just moments ago. Sam was by his side. Sam had grabbed his hand. Dean was about to…he shook his head, tried to stay focused.

He got to Bobby’s soon enough, not remembering any of the drive, or the turns he made to get here. He just went on instinct, moving until he got to where he needed to be. He let himself in with the spare key, and immediately headed for the whiskey. Pouring himself a large shot, he swallowed it all in one gulp and quickly poured another.

He sat down on the couch, putting his face in his hands.

“Sammy, I’m so sorry.” He waited on the couch, unable to fall asleep. He replayed the evening in his mind over and over again. How happy Sammy had been. How much fun they had had. They had been totally relaxed and comfortable together. Sam had grabbed his hand. Moments away from the perfect end to the evening…and then it all just fell apart.

Sam was gone.

**

Two hours later, there was a knock at the door.  Dean hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch, and the line of whiskey remaining in the bottle was several inches lower than it had been when he first opened it. Dean jumped at the unexpected sound. He panicked and reached for his gun. Slowly, he made his way to the door. It was too early for Bobby to be back yet, and he wouldn’t knock on his own front door. No one else knew he was here. Well, except for…

He cautiously opened the door, his gun at the ready. But the porch was empty. He looked around, waiting for something to jump out of the shadows, but nothing did. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest. But he kept his hand steady. He was about to chalk it up to his imagination. There wouldn’t be anyone here this time of night, right? Dean was about to close the door and get more whiskey when he noticed the white envelope on the front porch.

“Shit.” He said under his breath. He kept his gun up, prepared for anything. Seeing and hearing no one, he picked up the envelope and went back inside, closing and locking the door.

He set the gun onto the table beside him and sat down, his fingers trembling.

“Sammy.” He whispered. He let his fingers trace over the flap of the envelope, as if he were holding Sam himself. He didn’t want to be here. His stomach was sick. How was this even real?

Slowly, hands now unsteady, he opened the envelope. Inside, there was only one picture. No note, no instructions, just a picture. He slowly turned the picture over. And time stopped. His heart froze. He stopped breathing. Dean clamped a hand over his mouth, stifling a small cry. Tears started to fall from his eyes.

“Oh god, Sammy. Oh…my…god…no…”

There was his Sammy. Wrists bound by thick ropes, held high above his head. He appeared to be hanging from a ceiling, his toes barely touching the floor. His damp hair hung in his face, which was bloodied and bruised. Sam was clearly unconscious. He was wearing his boxers, but nothing else. His bare feet were scraped and his torso was already bruising in several areas. He had a large gash across his stomach.

Dean’s hands trembled as he carefully fingered the picture. He touched the picture of Sam very gently.

“Sam…” Dean whispered his brother’s name. It had only been a couple of hours, and already Sam was obviously in tremendous pain. Dean’s hand went to his mouth again, and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. Not his Sammy.

He looked in the envelope, but found nothing else. Nothing on the back of the picture. Nothing. The picture held no clue as to where his brother might be. Just a big empty room, nothing distinguishing about it.

Waiting was agony. Dean needed action. Dean picked up the whiskey and drank straight from the bottle, gripping the picture tightly in his hand as he stared at the wall. Numb. He drank until he felt numb.

**

Bobby arrived about 3 hours later. He tore into the salvage yard, haphazardly parking the truck, and practically ran inside. He found Dean on the couch, whiskey bottle in hand, picture tightly gripped in the other. Dean did not hear him come in. He stared at the wall, his world around him nonexistent.

“Oh son, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He knelt by Dean’s feet and wrapped him in a hug. Dean did not hug back.

“Dean?” Bobby’s voice was full of concern. “You alright, son?”

“Thhhey took m’ Sammmmy…” Dean slurred. Bobby nodded, taking the nearly empty bottle out of his hands, setting it on the table beside the couch. Dean did not notice. “You’ve had enough there, Dean, alright?” Dean just looked past him, now dried tear streaks visible on his face.

Bobby pulled out his bandana from his pocket, and walked quickly to the kitchen. He ran the cloth under cool water and brought it back to Dean, who hadn’t moved, except for having picked up the whiskey bottle again. Wordlessly, Bobby gently removed it again, setting it a little further away.  He took Dean’s face in his hands and softly wiped his face. It broke Bobby’s heart to see Dean like this. Dean was strong. He never showed his emotions, just like John had taught him. But Bobby was looking at a broken man. Sam being taken had pushed him down to a point where we was currently unable to function.

But Bobby didn’t know what was building up inside the older Winchester. Dean’s walls were going up. His warrior was ready to be released.

Dean turned to face his father figure. “Thn’ks Bb’bby. You’re…yourrre soo good to meeee. I.  You know.  You know.” Dean slurred his words again, closing his eyes. Bobby just nodded, wiping down Dean’s face and neck again. Dean reached up and patted Bobby’s cheek. “I love you Bobby.”

“Yeah Dean, I know.” Bobby sighed and ran his hand down his face. He took a deep breath and reached out to the picture in Dean’s hand.

“Ok, what you got there? Let me see, ok? Dean, please, let me see.” Bobby was very calm and patient with Dean. He knew he was wasted, first of all, and second of all, he was in an emotional state that needed calmness. He didn’t want to rile him up or upset him. He kept his voice low and even. Very carefully, he removed the picture from Dean’s hands. Dean did not want to let go, but after gentle coaxing from Bobby, he finally relented.

“Damn.” Said Bobby, in a whisper.

“They took him Bobby. S’my fault. Mine. I shouldda…I mean I…” Bobby placed a hand on his shoulder. “Dean, you need some rest. I’m going to make some phone calls, ok? Just lie down for a little bit. Do you have anything else I can look at?”

Dean nodded, and pointed to the envelope that was in his car. Unfolded on the coffee table, Dean had read and reread it several times.

“Ok. That’s good. That’s good Dean. I’ll take a look, ok? Let me handle this for a bit. You…you lie down, ok? Have you slept at all? Dean?” Dean shook his head no, his eyes red and glassy from crying and lack of sleep. (and almost an entire bottle of whiskey) Bobby was beside himself. He closed his eyes, regaining his composure.  

“Ok Dean. Bed. Now. We’ll figure this out, ok?”

Dean blinked tears falling again. He nodded. “Ok Bobby.” Now that Bobby was home and he was no longer alone, Dean finally felt safe enough to relax and let go. He let Bobby untie and remove his boots. He let Bobby lay him down on the couch and soon after drifted off, the alcohol and fear draining his energy. Bobby blinked back a few tears, looking down at Dean. Usually so strong and brave, he saw before him a Dean he hadn’t seen before. This Dean was vulnerable. Afraid. Scared.

He picked up his phone and headed into the kitchen to start making some phone calls, holding the letter tightly in his hands. He didn’t want to open it.

**

Dean dreamt of Sam. Over and over, a new dream took form, and they were all about Sam. He dreamed that he got to wherever Sammy was being held, and the faceless captor would appear, telling Dean he should have followed instructions. And then slowly killed Sam in front of him, forcing him to watch.

In the dream, Dean wasn’t tied down, but he was unable to move, as if under a spell. He was unable to turn his head or close his eyes. He could not turn away from his brother, who was crying out in agony.

And what he was forced to watch was brutal. Indescribable. Bloody.

He also dreamed he arrived too late to save him. He’d get there, remove Sam from his ropes, and Sam would fall into his arms. His baby brother would look up into his eyes and say, “It’s ok Dean, I forgive you…You know I…” and then die in his arms.

Dean dreamed over and over that his mission failed, his brother dying in his arms.


	5. Sam Hurts, Dean Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Torture (mentioned, not graphic), lots of drinking, sadness, anger, crying  
> Wincest Warnings: none in this chapter
> 
> If I ever miss something that needs a warning, please let me know and I will fix it!

 

When Dean woke up the next morning, he had a terrible hangover. He was dehydrated and confused. It took him several minutes to orient himself – he was at Bobby’s…he had been out drinking with Sam…

Dean flew off of the couch and ran into the kitchen, grabbing his throbbing head and stumbling. Bobby was sitting there with Rufus and Ellen. It was early. The bright red rays of the morning sun started to peek through the kitchen window. The world outside was quiet and still.

The letter was in front of them on the table. Rufus was holding the picture of Sam, and when Dean walked in, he quickly turned the photo upside down, setting it on the table under the letter. When Ellen saw Dean, she got up and walked to him quickly, wrapping her arms around him.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry. We’re doing everything we can, ok? We’ll find him. We will.” She kissed his temple and held him close. Dean returned the hug. He grabbed on to Ellen and pulled her in tightly. He took a few shaky breaths and finally let her go. She put her hands on his cheeks and kissed him on the forehead.

“It’s gonna be ok Dean. We’ll get him back, ok?”

Dean nodded and turned to Bobby.

“Do we have anything yet? Anything at all?” his voice was quiet. It was missing the confidence Dean usually carried with him.

Bobby shook his head and sighed. “Not yet Dean. But we’ve put the word out, ok?” Dean sat down, grabbing his head.

Bobby looked Dean up and down, frowning. “How are you feeling, boy? You don’t look so good.” He reached over to the counter and poured a steaming cup of black coffee into a mug. He carefully pressed the mug into Dean’s hands. Dean nodded and took a sip, but set the cup on the table. A small amount of coffee swished out, running over Dean’s hands. He didn’t even notice the burn.

Dean’s voice changed from quiet to angry. “How the hell do you think I’m feeling, Bobby? They fucking took Sam! God knows what they are even doing to him right now!” The anger rose in him quickly and he clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles turning white. His teeth clenched together and he shivered when this back teeth ground together. He let go of the mug and grabbed his throbbing head. Ellen gently grabbed his shoulders and walked him back to the living room.

“Come on honey, let’s go sit down. You need to calm – “ but Dean pushed her hands away.

“I don’t need to be calm!  I need to go find my brother! I need to go out there and get him! And I can’t!” He took deep gulping breaths, practically hyperventilating. Dean’s hands went up to his head again, and he sat down on the couch.

Ellen took a step back, understanding Dean’s need for space. Rufus and Bobby walked into the room, Rufus bringing Dean the coffee he had set down. Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and took a breath. He opened them slowly and took the coffee from Rufus’ outstretched hand.

“Thank you.” He sat down on the couch, bringing the cup to his lips. His voice was quiet again, the redness in his face slowly fading.

Bobby handed Dean two pills.

“What are these for?” asked Dean.

“Just something to help you relax, ok? Probably take care of that headache, too. Trust me, Dean. Really. We are here for you. For Sam. But you need to calm down. You need to get control again, ok?”

Dean knew Bobby was right, but he was so angry. So scared. Without Sam, he -

There was a knock at the door. Dean startled, spilling hot liquid on his hand for the second time. This time he flinched at the pain.

Three hunters drew their weapons, pointed at the door. Dean just stood, set down the mug and walked calmly to the door.

“That’ll be for me.”

“Dean, wait!” Dean heard Rufus’ voice behind him, but he kept going.

Dean didn’t bother with a weapon. He just opened the door and looked down. Just as he expected. Another white envelope. This one was much larger than before, and Dean could tell there were several items inside. He picked it up with shaking hands and brought it back to the others, who stowed their guns as he sat down. His hands trembled a bit.

“He’s been gone for over 15 hours. We already know they are hurting him. What’s in this envelope might…”

Ellen gently put her hand on his arm. “We’re all here Dean. We’ll do this together. Go ahead and open it. There might be some useful clues in there.”

Dean nodded and looked at the faces of his friends. They were all concerned. But he saw determination in each one of them as well. He tore open the envelope and dumped out its contents onto his lap.

Inside the envelope were 4 pictures, a folded letter, a leather necklace with a small crystal attached, a vial of blood, and a small leather pouch. Dean gave the pictures to Ellen, unwilling to look at them just yet. He put the necklace and the pouch on the table and picked up the vial of blood, holding it between his thumb and forefinger.

“This is Sam’s blood.” He whispered. He rolled the tube between his fingers and closed his eyes, as if he could feel Sam’s presence in that small bottle. He held on to it for a few moments, then set it next to the other items.

Ellen kept the pictures face down in her lap. No one was ready to look at those pictures just yet.

“Yeah, none of this is weird at all,” said Bobby, mostly to himself.

“Go on now,” said Rufus, his usually gruff voice now gentle and soft. Dean didn’t even know Rufus could sound like that. He looked up into the eyes of his wise friend, tears welling up in his own.

“Open the letter, Dean.” Rufus placed his large hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean felt calmer with the touch.

With shaking hands, he unfolded the hand written note, reading it out loud.

_Dean,_

_I bet you’re wondering how your Sammy is. And I know you want him back. Oh, I know how much you do. But not just yet. There are some things you need to do for me first. You will do them without question. Failure to follow instructions will result in the very painful death of your brother. Which you will watch. Trust me. Don’t try to be his savior. You won’t be, not this time._

_First. Yes, that is Sam’s blood. I have to say, it was really fun taking that from him. You’ll need to put that in a safe place. You’ll need it later. Don’t lose it. It’s pure blood. The only vial of its kind. And his blood isn’t pure anymore, so…don’t lose that._

_Second. The necklace. Put it on. Wear it at all times. Do not take it off, don’t let anyone else wear it or touch it, or it will lose its potency. More on this later. Put it on now._

_Third. Do NOT look for Sam. I will return him to you shortly. If you try to find us, I will kill him. Just do what I say._

_Fourth. The leather pouch. There is a spell you must do. You must do it tomorrow. Use the items inside to complete the spell. I will have someone bring you the spell tomorrow._

_Fifth. Have you looked at the pictures yet? I’m sure you’re going to love them._

_Do what I say, Dean. Precisely. Your brother’s life is in your hands._

_We are watching you._

_Ciao_

 

“Oh my god,” said Ellen, sitting back into the couch. Her hands trembled as they held the pictures.

Bobby and Rufus looked at each other, but remained silent, unsure of what to do or say.

Dean did not hesitate. He leaned over and grabbed the necklace, putting it on before anyone could stop him.

“Dammit Dean!” Bobby yelled, pulling off his hat and wiping his forehead. “You don’t know what the hell that is!”

Dean’s voice was steady. He was devoid of all emotion. “I don’t care, Bobby. I’m going to do everything this bastard says. I’ll figure out how to kill him after we get Sam back.”

There was a few moments of unsure, worried silence. Ellen cleared her throat.

“So. Should we? Look at them? The pictures?” Ellen looked to each of the men. Bobby and Rufus nodded slowly. Dean just held his hand out. Ellen shook her head.

“No Dean, let us see first, ok?” Her voice was soft, caring, and protective. Dean understood that. He put his hand in his lap and waited.

Ellen took a deep breath and steeled herself for what she was about to see.

She looked at the first picture, and her hand went to her face. “Oh Sam!” A tear fell from her eye. Shaking, she turned to the next picture. She gasped and quickly flipped past it. At the third picture, she closed her eyes and shook her head. She passed the stack to Rufus, who was sitting next to her. “I can’t look anymore. I don’t want to see the last one.” Her face turned bright red.

Rufus took the pictures and flipped through them quickly. He did not have the same reaction Ellen did. Rufus was a man who was taught to hide his feelings. He was supposed to be strong. He loved Sam like a son, Dean too. He couldn’t let his fear show in front of the boy. He looked at all four pictures without a sound and passed them over to Bobby. He cleared his throat. But inside. Inside Rufus was crying. Sam was suffering.

“Son of a bitch, Sammy…” Rufus whispered under his breath, leaning back next to Ellen and putting his hand over his face. Hardened as he was, he found it hard to control his emotions this time.

Bobby carefully took the pictures, closing his eyes briefly before looking at them.

Bobby was more sensitive than Rufus. Sure, he was a lethal hunter, but this? He had practically raised Sam and Dean. With all the times John left and just dropped the kids off? These were his boys. His Sam. He couldn’t bear to know what the boy was going through. But he looked anyway. What he looked at made his stomach turn.

“Dean, I don’t think you should see these.”

But Dean was determined to see this through. His voice, still soft and low, said, “I have to Bobby. I pretty much know what to expect after seeing your faces. I’ll…I’ll be ok. Whoever this is wants me to see them. So I’m gonna see them. So…hand them over.”

Bobby nodded and slowly handed Dean the pictures. Ellen put her hands on Dean’s shoulders and Rufus got up to get the whiskey.  He came back with a bottle and four empty glasses.

Dean’s hands shook as he turned the pictures over. Behind him, Rufus reached over his shoulder and handed him a glass of whiskey.

Ignoring the fact that he still had a hangover, Dean took it without a word and looked at the first picture.

~~

The first picture was very much like the one he got earlier. Sam was bound by his wrists. This was a close up shot of his torso and head. His hands stretched up and beyond the edge of the picture, as his legs did below. Sam’s head hung down, eyes closed, hair in his face. Blood was trickling from his mouth and ears. His torso was bloodied and bruised in several places. There was a bloody gash across his stomach.

Dean took a deep breath and turned to the next picture.

This one was a close up of Sam’s lower legs and feet. The toes barely touched the floor, which meant all of his body weight was being held by his wrists. Dean knew they were going to have severe damage, probably cutting through several layers of skin, becoming infected. His feet were completely covered in dried blood. On the floor next to them were instruments. Dean saw pliers, scissors, a scalpel, a large knife…and some things Dean had never seen before, and most of them were sharp. All of them were covered in blood.

Dean took a long swallow of whiskey as tears silently ran down his face. Rufus and Bobby were looking over Dean’s shoulders, looking at the pictures again with him. Ellen excused herself to get more tissues.

The third picture showed Sam awake. He was screaming, or at least it looked that way. Here he was lying on a table. His wrists and ankles were tied down tightly. His hands were pulled out to the sides, tied down with the same heavy rope he had seen earlier. The picture was taken from above, showing his whole body tied down. His face was bruised and bloody, his eyes showing complete anguish. His mouth was open wide, but it was obscured with a rag. Sam had been gagged. The large gash on his left side was oozing blood. Sam was still only in his boxers. His arms and legs were covered in cuts and bruises. There was a lot of blood.

“Bobby…” Dean let out a sob. “They are fucking torturing him!”

“Son, you don’t need to see the last one. Come on, give ‘em here.”

“No. I…I have to. I’ve already seen all this other shit. I’m…I’m already broken, Bobby. One more won’t do me in.” his voice was small and weak when he spoke.

Bobby and Rufus exchanged worried glances. Dean was always tough. Always was strong. Admitting he was broken…well…this was new territory for everyone.

Dean flipped to the last picture. He choked. And threw them all across the room. “Sammy!” Dean yelled. He stood up quickly and gulped down the last of his whiskey. Throwing his glass into the fireplace, he strode to the front door, pushing past Ellen as she walked back in with tissues.

Bobby and Rufus ran after him into the salvage yard.

Dean wanted to run. He just wanted to run far away and make this all disappear. But his body wouldn’t let him. Instead, he sunk to his knees in the middle of the dirt, clenched his fists tightly and screamed at the top of his lungs “Sammy!”

Bobby and Rufus caught up to him quickly.  Kneeling beside him, they both picked him up by the elbows, one on each side, and helped him walk back to the house. Ellen had already put the items including the letter and pictures in a small box on the table.  They sat Dean on the couch again. He was breathing heavily, fists still clenched, tears falling silently.

Bobby spoke first. He knew they needed to move forward. Follow the instructions they were being given.

“Um…ok, let’s think about this. What about…Sam’s blood. What does it mean that this is pure and there will be no more?” Dean just looked straight ahead. His teeth were clenched together tightly. Everyone was quiet. Stunned. Dean finally broke the silence.

“I’m waiting for more information,” said Dean, softly. “I’ve put on the necklace, I’ve looked at the pictures. I’m gonna do whatever spell he tells me to do tomorrow and I’m gonna get Sam back.”

“Don’t you want to go look for him?” asked Rufus.

“I sure as hell do. But…he said they were watching us. I mean…they have those pictures of us. They know what I’m doing. If I look for Sam, he’s gonna kill him. We’re stuck. We…we just have to wait.”

So they waited.  Dean sat quietly as Ellen, Rufus and Bobby talked about possible solutions. Dean was just waiting for the next envelope. He wasn’t going to do anything until then.

Ellen and Bobby eventually went into the kitchen and cooked up some food while Rufus examined the pictures, looking for any evidence of where he might be. Dean just sat, fingering the necklace around his neck and staring at the whiskey bottle.

“We’ll get Sam back, Dean. Ok? We’ll do whatever it takes. Got it?”

 Dean nodded, but didn’t smile. “Yeah, Rufus. I got it.” He finally reached for the whiskey and poured himself a full glass.

“Dean…” warned Rufus, “I know you’re really struggling. And I’m all for some whiskey.  But don’t you think you’ve…had enough?”

Dean paused, contemplating. But then he looked away from Rufus. And swallowed down another shot. His headache was gone, thanks to whatever Bobby had given him. Rufus merely shook his head.

A few minutes later, Bobby and Ellen came into the front room with sandwiches and beer. Bobby brought Dean a water, which he ignored. Bobby tried to take the whiskey away, but Dean gave him such an intense look, that Bobby decided to drop it. Dean was a big boy. He could decide when to stop drinking. Besides, these were extenuating circumstances.

The three older hunters ate quietly. Dean refused to eat. He poured himself another shot, while the others avoided looking at Dean.  He stood up and walked toward the fireplace, half full bottle in one hand, full glass in the other. He downed it in one large swallow. Then he swayed on his feet, pouring another glass. Bobby stood up, ready to catch Dean if he fell. But he’s had enough of this behavior.

“Dammit, Dean, you’ve had a bottle and a half in the last 24 hours, son.”

“So?” Dean slurred the only word he spoke. He swayed again. “Sam’s gone, and he…if he…” Dean trailed off, waving his hand.

Bobby caught him as he fell. Rufus came over, taking away the bottle and the glass. Dean did not protest this time. He just hung his head and started crying.

“You don’t know…you don’t know how I…what he…” Dean whispered into Bobby’s ear as he held on to his shoulders.

“I do son. I really do. It’s ok, you know I know. He’ll come back, Dean, ok? He will.” Bobby hugged him close, helping him up and over to the couch, setting him down gently.

Dean curled in upon himself, letting the tears fall. Waiting.


	6. Hunters, Spells, and Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: torture, descriptive but not too graphic, blood, pain, crying
> 
> Wincest Warnings: Sam thinks about Dean and his hands. Imagines his brother’s lips on his own

**(Sam’s POV)****

Sam was hanging by his wrists in the empty room. (He thinks it’s been two days, but he’s not sure). It’s dark. It’s cold. Whoever took him made sure the area was well secluded, for sure. He was only wearing his boxers – and he’s not sure how _that_ happened. He was in tremendous pain. His wrists hurt, his chest hurt and his feet hurt. Actually his whole body felt like it was on fire. But he knew his wrists were going to be severely damaged after this. He barely held on to consciousness.

~~

“Saaammmmy,” whispered a voice, directly in Sam’s ear. He flinched, but the fact that he was tied up, arms strung up above his head, toes barely brushing the floor, did not allow him much opportunity to fight back. He was exhausted.

“You sorry son of a bitch, I’m going to kill you!” Sam gasped for breath, the gash in his side still dripping with blood.  He let out a small cry.

The voice sneered, “I’d like to see you try.” Sam wondered if Dean had been able to escape. He remembered they were attacked together. Ambushed, more specifically. They had been in a parking lot…Dean was going to surprise him…

_“Best birthday ever, Dean,” said Sam, stopping his brother momentarily. Dean kissed his knuckles and he shivered. He loved the feeling of Dean’s hands on him. His lips on him. He’d wanted Dean’s lips on his own lips for a while now. And the way Dean was acting…all secretive and cute…Sam was sure his surprise was going to be very special. He was hoping Dean would kiss him. He really wanted that. But he didn’t keep his hopes up. All they’d ever done is held hands. He knew Dean had kissed his forehead when he thought he was sleeping, but he never responded, never told Dean he knew. He didn’t want him to ever stop._

_So Sam waited, breathlessly, as Dean let go of his hand and walked away from him. His heart started pounding in his chest. He was sure now. He was sure Dean had something special and amazing waiting for him. Suddenly he felt a shiver and looked around him, distracted by the weird feeling. But nothing was there, and he shook it off as nerves and his drunkenness._

_He focused again on Dean, imagining his lips on his. He wondered if they would feel soft.  Tender and gentle, he was sure of it. He took a breath, knowing tonight was going to change everything…_

_Then pain…then darkness…_

…and something hit him on the head…did they get Dean, too? Did he get away? But he couldn’t see anything as the room was pitch black. He didn’t know if Dean was with him or not. He hoped with all his heart that Dean was going to come for him. He was close to unconsciousness and he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be kept alive.

“What do you want?” Sam managed to ask weakly.

“Please, you’re a fucking Winchester, isn’t that enough?” the voice scoffed. “You’re here because I want you here. I need you. Need Dean, too, but I can wait for him. It’s you that is most important. You’re the key to all of it, Sam.”

Sam continued to struggle against the ropes that were holding him. “What the hell are you going to do to me?”

“Hah. Like I’m going to tell you.”

Without any warning, Sam felt something hit him in the stomach and he immediately got the wind knocked out of him, leaving him gasping for breath. 

“But I _am_ gonna hurt you. A _lot_. Gonna teach that Dean a lesson, yes I will. He doesn’t own you. _She_ does.” Sam was confused.

“Who are you?” Sam demanded, still gasping for air.

“Hah! Nope. Not telling.”

Sam felt something hit the side of his head. White sparks appeared before his eyes and shivers ran down his entire body. His wrists hurt tremendously as he scrambled to get a foothold on the ground. But it was no use. The ground was a few inches below, and the way he was strung up, he would not be able to reach it. The ropes dug deep, cutting into his skin.

The voice continued laughing as Sam felt a very sharp knife sink slowly into his shoulder. He screamed in agony, trying desperately to hold onto consciousness.

As Sam dangled from the ceiling, his thoughts consumed him as he succumbed to the pain. He tried desperately to hold on to the image, the feeling, of Dean’s hands comforting him, Dean’s lips soft against his skin, as he slipped into darkness.

Where the hell was Dean?

~~

Hours later (Minutes? Days?), Sam was released from his ropes that had him hanging from the ceiling. He gasped, collapsing to the ground, unable to support himself. Instinctively he curled into the fetal position. But he wasn’t out of danger. The darkness still surrounded him. He felt himself being lifted off the floor by two pairs of hands and placed on a table. He felt his arms and legs being restrained again, but was unable to fight back in his weakened state.

Without warning, the lights came on. Sam squinted in the brightness, his first exposure to light in days. He was unable to shield his eyes as his hands were once again tied down, keeping his arms pulled away from his body. Every part of him hurt. He knew he was bruised and bleeding. The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt before. He felt something being slipped over his head and placed around his neck. It felt like some kind of a necklace, but he couldn’t see very well so he wasn’t sure. He tried to open his eyes, but it was taking a long time to adjust to the light. He could sense a figure – no wait, two figures – walking around him.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Sam’s voice was desperate. Scared.

The familiar voice laughed, but it was a new voice that spoke up. “Sammy…” this voice was female.

“My name is….ungh…Sam!” Sam grimaced at the pain he was feeling.

“Right, sweetie, ok. Listen. _Sammy_. I need you. You’ve got powers. I want ‘em.”

“Pow- powers? No…no I don’t..I..ung…!” Sam threw his head back as the ropes were pulled tighter, stretching him over the table.

“Not yet you don’t. But you will. All we need is your soulmate and you’ll be completely able to access all your powers.”

“Soulmate? OW!” Sam gasped as the ropes relaxed a little, giving him room to breathe. But a punch to the stomach made him curl in on himself.

“Yes. A soulmate. Once we entwine you two, you will be unstoppable.”

“I don’t have a – “

“Oh yes you do. And you know who he is, don’t you? You’ve known for a long time now.”

“He?” Sam’s voice was very small.

“Yes. He. You know. I know you know. I’ve been watching you, remember.” She paused, laughing under her breath.

“Oh, and if you don’t help us? I’ll kill him. In front of you. Slowly. Then I’ll kill you too.” The male voice spoke.

“No. Don’t hurt him. Please. You have me, but don’t hurt him. I’ll do whatever you want!”

“Ah so you _do_ know who it is.” Sam could hear the smile in the female voice. “You’ve known since you were eleven, Sam. Remember? Remember when you first felt that way about him?”

Sam immediately flashed to that night. Realization washed over him. “I thought you were just a dream…” he managed in a weak whisper.

“Not a dream, Sammy. Real. Very real. I’ve been waiting for this for a long time. Patiently. And now I’m coming to collect.”

“No…” Sam breathed.

The ropes pulled tightly again and Sam was splayed out again until he screamed in pain.

“Well, all you have to do is wait, Sammy. He’s gonna do all the work. We just have to wait and see.”

Sam couldn’t hear her then. The pain of his muscles slowly being pulled apart took over. His eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out from the pain.

~~

Sam began to squirm in the darkness. The crystal around his neck began to glow a brilliant blue. He arched his back and opened his mouth to scream – but no sound came out. He felt a cloth being shoved in his mouth. He was being gagged. His body jerked a few times, pulling against his restraints, then he fell back, limp on the table.

The female voice spoke first. “Excellent. It is done. He is entwined with his soulmate.”

The other voice spoke. “Now we need to get him home. Reunite them.”

“Yes, and once he does, we can do the other spell.”

“And then Sam Winchester is ours. He will be able to do everything we need him to do. With his brother by his side, they are going to be unstoppable.”

“Yes. Unstoppable.” The female grinned, her black eyes flashing.


	7. Back at Bobby's

At 1 o’clock, they had finished eating lunch. Ellen and Bobby went to do the dishes while Rufus looked over the pictures again. Dean sat staring into the empty fireplace. He wanted desperately to do something, but knew he had to wait. Waiting was agonizing…he couldn’t stop thinking about what might be happening to Sam. His mind took him to very dark places. He tried to get the images of Sam hung up and tortured out of his mind, but they were seared into his memory. Bobby had taken away his bottle of whiskey again, as Dean had finished the whole bottle and started on a third. Bobby had put his foot down then. So he waited.

At 2 o’clock, Ellen kissed Dean on the top of his head, giving his shoulders a squeeze. She hugged Bobby and Rufus and headed back to The Roadhouse. She would spread the word to all the hunters there and get the community on alert. (With instructions to call her with any new word or as needed.) Dean did not notice her leave. Bobby tried to keep himself busy with phone calls and gathering information. Rufus was looking at all the envelopes and all of their contents. He was coming up with a plan. Dean was staring into the empty fireplace, drinking another glass of whiskey, quickly poured and hidden when Bobby was in the bathroom. His face was red. His heart hurt. His eyes started to grow heavy.

Dean drifted off into a light sleep, but dreamed of Sam. He dreamed the kidnapping never happened. He turned to Sam in that parking lot, and there stood his beautiful (goofy drunk) brother. Sam wobbled on his feet, but Dean walked back to get him. He took Sam’s hand and pulled him close. Sam stared at him and blinked slowly. He smiled and breathed slowly. Dean wrapped his arms around him and tucked his face into Sam’s neck. “I planned something for you,” he whispered, breathing softly into his ear. Sam shivered. “Yeah?” he asked quietly. “What did you plan, Dean?” Dean brushed his lips over Sam’s ear and took a step back. “Come with me and I’ll show you,” Dean whispered, his eyes never leaving Sam’s. Dean took his brother’s hand and led him to the clearing where a blanket was set up. On the blanket was a bottle of red wine and two small glasses.

Dean blushed. “I couldn’t get real wine glasses, I hope that’s ok?”

Sam’s face lit up. “Dean, what is all this?”

Dean smiled and reached up to touch Sam’s cheek. “I have something special planned, Sam. Wanted to make tonight special. For you. For us.”

Sam turned to Dean, his eyes sparkling. “The glasses are fine, Dean. This is amazing. You are amazing.” Dean pulled on Sam’s hand again and walked him to the blanket where they sat down together. Sam just watched Dean with awe as he poured two glasses of wine, handing one to Sam.

“Sam, I just wanted to…”

“DEAN!! DEAN!! GET UP! DEAN!!….Dean? Dean?”

Bobby was shaking his shoulder, and Dean was ripped from his dream.

~~

“Are you drinking again? Dammit Dean, come on. Pull yourself together. You’re going to give yourself alcohol poisoning. I couldn’t bear it if I lost both of my boys…Dean…please…”

Dean pulled himself out of his daze long enough to see the tears in Bobby’s eyes. He knew then he was hurting more than just himself. He turned his head and saw it in Rufus’ eyes, too.

Dean nodded. “Ok Bobby. Ok. I’ll… I’ll stop.” Bobby broke. He let the sobs go and held on to Dean tightly. Rufus just sat in the chair, watching the scene, a small smile appearing (and quickly disappearing – no one would ever see him smile) on his lips.

At 3 o’clock, Rufus suddenly stood up. He snapped his fingers and smiled. He gathered his things and took one last look at the pictures. He shook Bobby’s hand, saying he was only a phone call away, then he left, saying nothing else, taking a last look at Dean before he closed the door. Dean did not notice him leave. He was still on the couch, his head now tilted back, mouth open. Staring at the ceiling. Bobby was now not only worried for Sam, but for Dean, too.

Dean floated between unconsciousness and consciousness.

At 4 o’clock, Dean was still on the couch. He had just passed out from a combination of his hangover, his tiredness, and his drunkenness. It was not a good combination, and the older Winchester just couldn’t hang on anymore. Bobby had gone out back to get firewood for the evening fire. When Dean was alone, in that brief moment, there was a loud knocking on the door. Dean sprang up, immediately pulled from his (now dreamless) stupor. His heart was racing. He leapt up from his place on the couch, His drink crashing to the ground, his glass shattering. He stumbled a little as he was still recovering from his drunken afternoon.

He expected a white envelope waiting on the doorstep. Instead, he opened the door to a short man dressed in a 3 piece suit. He was handsome and had a nice smile. He did not look menacing at all.

“Who t’hell r’you?” Dean asked accusingly, his words slurring together.

“Never mind about me. I just came to give you this.” He held out a white envelope.

In what was probably a matter of three seconds, Dean, suddenly very sober, had him by the neck, shoving him up against the wall.

“Bobby! Now!” He called behind him to the backyard. Turning back to the man in the suit, Dean’s face turned bright red. He shoved his gun in the man’s face

“Who the hell are you and where the hell is Sam!”

The man smiled, unafraid. He put his hands up. “I’m just a messenger. I’m just here to remind you that you need to do the spell you will find when you open this envelope. Any deviation will result in - .”

“Result in what! Or else what? Say it!!” Dean’s grip increased, as he pushed the man against the wall again. The man laughed, unafraid of the hold Dean had on him.

Bobby ran into the room at that moment, his gun drawn.

The man stared at him, blue eyes becoming black. “Or else Sammy dies, Dean.” And with that, the man completely vanished. Just gone. Dean was propelled forward into the wall once the space the man took up was empty.

“Dammit!” Dean turned and punched the wall, leaving a large hole and bloody knuckles.

“Dean, what was that? Who was that?”

Dean held up an envelope. His ears turned bright red.

“We need to do the fucking spell.”

**

Dean and Bobby sat on the couch, the white envelope in their hands. Dean was trembling.

His mind was on the demon that had delivered the message. He had him right in his hands. He HAD him…and lost him again. Dean once again felt like a failure, unable to save his brother even when the man was literally in his hands.

“Do you want me to open that, son?” Bobby asked, placing his hand on Dean’s knee. He felt comforted by his touch, but Dean shook his head.

“Nah I got it.” He ran his finger along the glued seam, tearing open the envelope. There were no pictures this time. Dean wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved at that or not. There was just a letter, written in the same handwriting as all the others.

Dean,

You may be asking yourself why. Why did I take Sam? Why not you? Why not both of you? Why either of you at all? Well here it is. I got myself a fucking Winchester. A psychic one. He’s got powers, this one. Betcha didn’t know that, did ya? Well, I know he’s got something powerful. I’ve been watching. He doesn’t know it yet, but it’s in there.

So you know how this works - I want you to know how much pain Sam is in. I want you to know this is all your fault. I want you to hurt. Something you did in your past. I want you to think long and hard. Now I’m not gonna tell you. That would be too easy, you know? I just want you to know this is all your fault Dean. Your Sammy. Tortured. Because of you.

I have something else I need you to do now. The spell. You will need the pouch for this. I know you’ve put on the necklace. You put it on right away, good boy. Like I said, I’m watching you.

The instructions for the spell are at the bottom of the page. Do it correctly. I will know immediately if you did it. I will see the results here. In front of me. It won’t hurt him, if that’s what you’re thinking. Not much. Maybe. But it will hurt more if you don’t.

Do this and Sam will be one step closer to you. Who knows? Maybe I won’t give him more pain if you do this. But maybe I will. We’ll see.

Be sure you are wearing the necklace. Don’t take it off. It’s important.

Ciao

Follow these instructions exactly:

You need 2 black candles. Pinch of sage. Three drops of Dean’s blood. Three drops of Sam’s blood (from the vial). Copper bowl. Wooden spoon (walnut). Spoonful of Dean’s favorite drink (whiskey, am I right?) Spoonful of water. All the contents of the pouch.

1\. Light the candles. Set them 3 feet apart on a wooden surface.

2\. Place the copper bowl between them.

3\. Mix all other ingredients.

4\. Stir with the spoon.

5\. Recite the following:

anima mea in sempiternum erit, qui unus librat

6\. Say it 3 times

7\. Wait.

8\. You will know if the spell is complete. Trust me.

9\. Pour the contents of the bowl into a hole in the dirt outside near a tree.

10\. Blow out the candles.

Dean folded the paper and handed it to Bobby.

“What the fuck is this shit?” asked Dean.

Bobby nodded, his eyes wide, “I mean…this Latin…it’s just…”

“What does it mean, Bobby?”

“Roughly, it means ‘the one who balances your soul shall be mine forever.’ “

Dean sighed, putting his hand over his eyes. “What the hell even is that? Balances my soul? What the fuck does that mean? What the hell even is this shit? Why do these demons want to do this at all? Why Sammy? Why me? What the hell did I do to make Sam deserve this?”

But Bobby shook his head. “There’s nothing you did Dean, Come on. This is a demon, now we know for sure, after that messenger.”

Dean nodded absently, but still went back in his mind, trying desperately to remember something – anything he might have done in the past. But Dean was just as perplexed as Bobby.

“Dean, I’m gonna call Ellen. Get her back here. She knows her way around spells like this. And try to get Rufus back here too. Lord knows I could use as much help as possible. I can’t seem to get a hold of him though.”

Dean nodded. He knew he was going to do the spell, regardless. But having Ellen and Rufus back would help. Bobby reached towards the phone.

**

Ellen showed up around 6 o’clock.

“Bobby, you sure don’t mess around. I say to call me, and you called me. Sorry it took a while to get here. What do you need from me?”

Bobby spoke up first, picking up the new letter from the table.

“Dean’s supposed to do this spell.” He handed her the letter, reaching across Dean’s lap.

Ellen reached across and took the letter, opening it slowly.

Don’t worry, there’s no pictures in there.”

Ellen breathed a sigh of relief and unfolded the paper. She read over the letter and spell work and scrunched up her nose. “A soulmate spell?”

Dean sighed heavily and sat back.

“Yeah, that’s what we thought it was.”

“And what’s this bullshit about something Dean did in his past?” Ellen looked at the letter again.

“Demons, Ellen. We know It’s demons. It was a demon that came and delivered this letter. Then he just disappeared, right out of Dean’s grasp.”

Ellen’s eyes narrowed. She thought hard. Looking back at the letter again.

“Why would – “

“We don’t know. But it seems harmless, really. No reason why I shouldn’t do it, right?” Dean asked.

Ellen shrugged. “There are actually probably a hundred good reasons why you shouldn’t do the spell, Dean! Did you guys ask Rufus yet?”

“Can’t get a hold of him.”

Dean pushed out from between the two hunters on the couch.

“Alright, you know what? Let’s just do this. I don’t care, ok? Do we have everything we need?” Dean looked from Ellen to Bobby and back to Ellen again. Bobby and Ellen just looked at each other. Ellen opened her mouth, but thought better of it. She closed her mouth quickly and looked at Dean.

“What? Look, this is gonna save him, right? We gotta…I have to save him.” Dean was growing agitated. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, desperate to do something that would save his brother.

Ellen nodded at Bobby and he sighed heavily, but stood up and faced Dean. He wasn’t smiling.

“Yeah this should be pretty easy. Gimme a few minutes. Why don’t you go dig a hole out back for when we are done?” Bobby patted Dean on the shoulder and went to the basement.

“I’ll help you Bobby.” Ellen turned and followed him.

Dean slowly walked outside. He found a nearby tree and, using his bare hands, dug a small hole. Then he sat on the ground, putting his face in his hands. Why a soulmate spell? Why did anyone care? Why? What did any of this have to do with anything? Dean knew it didn’t matter anyway.

He knew who his soulmate was already. At least he thought he did. From his perspective anyway. He knew who his other half was. And right now, he was tied up and being tortured. His Sammy. Dean sat down in the dirt and let himself cry.

Obviously whoever took him – whoever the demon was who had him– knew about them. About their pull toward each other. And somehow forcing out this soulmate thing was gonna – was gonna what? Dean was confused. Scared.

**

Ellen and Bobby set up the ingredients on Bobby’s coffee table. Bobby set up the candles, bowl and spoon. Ellen brought in the other ingredients and a sterilized needle for Dean to extract his own blood.

Bobby went outside to get Dean.

“You sure about this, Dean?” Bobby sat down next to him on the ground. He placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Dean looked at the small hole he had dug and then down at his necklace.

“Yeah, Bobby, I’m ready. Bobby stood up, reaching down to help Dean up. Dean took his hand and stood. Bobby brought in Dean from outside and set him in front of the table. He set the spell next to him.

“Are you ready, Dean?” Dean merely nodded. Ellen and Bobby stood behind him as Dean read the spell again. He slowly mixed the ingredients, dumping in the unknown contents of the pouch, dropping in Sam’s blood, then pricking his finger for drops of his own. He read the incantation as instructed. The blood began to swirl in the bowl, a tiny puff of blue smoke rising from the bowl. As the small puff dissipated, the crystal on Dean’s necklace began to glow. It emitted a small blue light. It did not cause him pain, but Dean gasped, grabbing the necklace, falling back onto the floor, startled.

“Ellen, quick. Dump this in the hole Dean dug outside!” Ellen grabbed the bowl and ran out the back door, dumping and covering the mixture before running back inside.

“Wow!” Dean gasped. A small smile forming on his lips. “It’s true! I remember. I do remember.” His eyes glossed over and he stared out into nothing.

“What’s true? Dean? What do you remember? Dean?” But Dean did not hear Bobby’s shouts. His eyes fluttered closed and he fell back onto the floor, unconscious.


	8. Dean Remembers

“Dean! Dean!” Dean felt fuzzy. He blinked and sat up with the help of Ellen and Bobby. Bobby spoke again, a little more gently this time. “Dean! Are you alright?”

Dean blinked. His head cleared, like a fog was lifting.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m ok.” He let Ellen and Bobby help him to the couch.

“What the hell happened? You passed out like a half hour ago…”

“Half hour?” Dean blinked. “Huh.”

Ellen put her hand to Dean’s forehead. He felt normal, other than his skin feeling a little clammy.

“Dean. Tell us. What happened? When you finished the spell. You said, ‘it’s true’. What’s true Dean?”

Dean wasn’t sure he was ready to reveal this information quite so soon, so he kept the details to himself.

“It’s true it was a soulmate spell. I felt it. I know I have one. They’re close.” (He made sure to say ‘they’ rather than ‘he’). Dean continued, “I’m not sure why I needed to do this, though. I guess I’m supposed to go find them.” His voice was shaky.

Ellen and Bobby exchanged glances.

“Dean…” Bobby’s voice was soft. “This is all about Sam, though, isn’t it? I mean…” he took a breath. He didn’t want to make Dean uncomfortable. Ellen nodded, encouraging Bobby to continue. “It’s Sam, isn’t it? Your soulmate?”

Dean cringed. His face turned bright red.

“I uh…”

“It’s ok Dean, really…”

“Is it though? Is it?” Dean knew he loved Sam differently. The flirting, the hand holding. The kiss that didn’t happen. Ever since Sam was seventeen…Dean blinked. No, not seventeen…eleven.

He thought back to the night he had come back from a hunt with his dad – and his brother was calling to him in his sleep…Dean sat bolt upright on the couch, startling Ellen. He suddenly knew what the demon was talking about. What he had done to Sam all those years ago. But how did the demon know? Hell, Sam didn’t even know about it.

Dean turned sideways on the couch and slowly pulled his knees to his chest and cried. Sam was gone. It was his fault. And now, Bobby knew. Ellen knew. They knew…Dean started shaking. Every single fiber of his existence was falling apart, crumbling around him.

“Dean. Soulmates are special. You don’t get to pick them. They just are. Ok? We don’t think any less of you. You aren’t weird. The universe has chosen the two of you. For whatever reason. It just…it just is…”

“I didn’t think…I didn’t…” Dean couldn’t finish his sentence.

“Hey Dean?” Ellen spoke up. “Dean. We love you, ok? You and Sam. Your path is your own. It’s…it’s ok.”

Dean opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Dean never thought this would be so big. He thought he would take that secret – the one that now even demons know about - to his grave. And now he might have to face the truth of it all. Bring it all out into the open.

This thing with Sam? Dean knew it went way deeper than flirting. And now he had absolute proof. Sam was his soulmate. And he was Sam’s.

**

It was late. Bobby had gone to his room and Ellen had gone to the guest room to sleep.

After the revelation, the older hunters had let Dean be, to try to sort things out in his head. He had wandered around outside for a bit, looking at the place where Ellen had buried the spell. After a few hours, he came inside and went upstairs to his room and sat down on the edge of the bed, wondering what the hell to expect next. He tried to fight it, but exhaustion set in, his eyes were heavy, and soon they fell closed.

**

Dean woke up, startled. It was day three without Sam. He ran his hands through his hair and wiped his face. Once again, he had several dreams about Sam, none of them he wanted to remember.

He wandered downstairs, numb and embarrassed. Ellen and Bobby were already awake, drinking coffee at the kitchen table. Bobby saw Dean come in and got up to get him a cup. Dean gladly accepted.

“Hanging in there, Dean?’

Dean’s face was pale. “Not really.”

Bobby sighed. “Ok, listen. I still can’t get a hold of Rufus, and I’m getting worried. I’m gonna run into town and look for him, ok? I need to pick up some supplies anyway, and some hunters need my help on a Rugaru case. But Ellen will be here, ok? I’ll be back tomorrow at noon. I’m sorry to leave you like this, but I just…I need to do something, and if I can help…”

Dean put up his hand. “It’s ok, Bobby. I’ll be fine. You have more whiskey, right?”

Bobby immediately walked closer to Dean, standing right in front of him, putting his hands roughly n Dean’s shoulders.

“Listen up, boy. I know you’re hurting. Real bad. But this drinking needs to stop. You’re not helping Sam by drinking. No, I do not have any more whiskey. And no, I’m not bringing any home. Get yourself sober before this gets out of hand. Coffee. Water. Hell, drink apple juice. That’s it. You hear me, Dean?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, ok, Bobby,” he lied.

**

After Bobby left, the day passed slowly. Dean desperately wanted to get out, to go look for Sam. But he knew he couldn’t. He knew they were watching him even now. He knew he had to stay where he was.

Around noon, Ellen got a call from Ash, saying there was trouble at the Roadhouse. He knew she needed to be with Dean, but this was important. She needed to get there immediately. Something about demons. Ash remained cryptic, knowing he might be listened to. Ellen got it.

She hung up and walked over to Dean, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey Dean. Honey. I don’t wanna leave you, but…”

“The Roadhouse. I know. It’s ok. I’ll be fine. Bobby will be back tomorrow. You’re a phone call away, Rufus is…” Dean waved his hand. “Somewhere.”

Ellen didn’t want to leave Dean alone. Her brow furrowed.

“Ok Dean. I’m sorry. Please. Call me, ok? And Dean?” She paused, looking Dean in the eye. She reached up and stroked his cheek.” “No more drinking, ok?” Dean nodded.

As soon as she closed the door, Dean went to the back porch and found the whiskey that Bobby had tried to hide from him.

He felt empty. More alone than he had ever been in his life. His mind went back to that night. Back when he was fifteen. Two days after it all started. Dean shook his head. He didn’t want to remember.

He needed to distract himself. Picking up his phone, he called Rufus. It went straight to voicemail. “Dammit,” said Dean, his hand gripping the phone tightly. “Where are you, Rufus?”

**

Rufus woke up and found himself on the floor in a small room. His head was pounding. He had no recollection of how he got there.

“Son of a bitch.” He said out loud, putting his hands on his hips. “How the hell did you get yourself caught, Rufus?” he asked himself. He shook his head and took in his surroundings. It looked like a small jail cell, actually. Stone walls, a small window with bars, a cot with no sheets on it, and the stone floor he woke up on. There was a heavy metal door opposite the window. The window was too high for him to look out of, so he dragged the cot over underneath it and stood on it to look out. His face fell. Just grass. His window was eye level to the ground, so he knew he was mostly underground.

“All right Rufus. Here you are. You done screwed up. Again. Think this through.” He put his hands to his head.

In the distance, he heard a scream. A terrible, painful scream. One he’d heard before. He exhaled sharply. “Sam,” he whispered.

**

Sam was losing himself. He felt drained. Empty. He was in so much pain he couldn’t concentrate on anything else. He tried to think about Dean. He tried to think about how Dean would save him. He knew Dean would save him. Unless…unless Dean was already dead. His mind drifted in and out of consciousness.

Sam only knew the dark room and the pain. The world around him was falling away.

He was still strapped to a table. Arms and legs splayed out. Tears dripping from his eyes. Searing pain.

In the darkness, he felt someone climb up on the table, straddling him. He could tell by the body and the smell that it was the female. God she smelled amazing. He tried to fight it, whatever it was that was drawing him to her.

“Hey there Sammy.” The female placed her hands on Sam’s chest. Her fingers slid up and down his body. He shivered at her touch. Her voice was soft and alluring. Sam tried to block her out.

“We haven’t been properly introduced, have we?” Her hands continued roaming over his skin.

He squirmed, trying to get away, even though he was tied down.

“You and I are going to be great together. We are.”

“Please…” Sam begged. He didn’t want her hands on him. She ignored him, laughing slightly. She brought her face close to his…and kissed him. Sam kept his lips tightly shut.

“You can’t avoid me forever Sam.” She breathed, trying to kiss him again. Her lips and tongue tasted like cherries.

“No! Stop, please!”

But the female demon did not stop. She ran her hands all over Sam’s nearly naked body. She ran her fingers through his hair. Still straddling him, she ground her hips, moaning softly. She ran her lips over his earlobe, her tongue dancing across his skin. He shivered.

“You have what I want Sam Winchester. And you will give it to me…” Her hands everywhere, her lips against his skin…Tears fell from his eyes as Sam couldn’t help the physiological response to his body. He was embarrassed and ashamed. He wanted more of her. She was somehow irresistible. And wrong.

“Please.” Said Sam softly.

But she climbed off of him, leaving him desperate.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

She turned her back to Sam, walking away, grinning. She knew she had him in her clutches now.

“Name’s Ruby. You’ll find out what I want soon enough.”

Sam let out a small sob in the darkness.


	9. Sam Comes Home

Ellen drove back to the Roadhouse, wondering what Ash had found. Was it going to get them closer to Sam? Or just another wild goose chase that Ash sometimes unknowingly sent them on.

Her face changed from worry to horror as she turned into the entrance. The Roadhouse was gone. Burned to the ground, smoke still rising.

**

Ruby pulled aside her demon friend.

“We need to get Sam back to Dean. As much as I…enjoy having him here, we need to get them back together. Sam’s gonna need some time to heal from what you did to him.” She looked across the room at Sam, now unconscious on the table, still strapped down. “I told you to go easier on him. This is gonna take a while to heal.”

“I’m sorry, my lady. He was just…it was just so much fun…”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” She smiled. “I want more time with him, too. It’s ok. He’ll come back to us soon enough.” She brought her attention back to the other demon. “Then we’ll have as much time as we want…to do whatever we want…with him…”

The other demon couldn’t help but grin at the thought of that.

“Dean’s done everything we’ve asked. Except that stupid hunter friend of his. I’ll have to deal with him later. Now. Untie him, wrap him in a blanket, and drop him off with Dean.”

“Should we clean him up first?”

Ruby scoffed. “No, let Dean deal with that. We need him to feel as much as possible, remember? But…give me a minute, ok?” The male demon nodded and walked away. He knew what Ruby wanted. What she needed.

Ruby walked slowly back to Sam, climbing on top of him. She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed his lips softly. Sam, rousing from his sleep state, began kissing back. He groaned into her mouth, relishing the feeling of soft lips on his. It was almost magnetic, he couldn’t pull away. Something very deep inside him tried to fight it, but the thought was soon pushed away. She loosened the ropes and he brought his arms around her, pulling her close. She helped him sit up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He pulled her even closer.

She reached down between them, rubbing her fingers across his chest. She moved her hips slowly, pushing herself against his crotch. Sam groaned in pleasure. His arms reached up, his fingers in her hair. He growled and pressed his mouth against her neck.

Ruby tilted her head back, giving Sam more access. And he dove in. He bit and nibbled at her skin, sliding his tongue across her throat. He was unable to resist her.

She moved her hips in a circle, slowly, once, twice…and Sam groaned again, feeling a wave of pleasure wash over him. He shuddered at her touch, bringing him closer to the edge.

“That’s it Sam. Give in. You know you want me.” Ruby’s voice was low, a soft whisper against his skin.

But upon hearing her voice, Sam froze. His hands, which had been entwined in her hair, fell to his sides. He lay back, letting his head drop to the table.

“No…” he breathed out. “No. Get. Off.” Fighting the desire to touch her was almost painful.

Ruby smiled. “You couldn’t let me go if you tried, Sam. You know you want me.” She sneered.

Sam’s eyes squeezed shut. “No. I’d rather die.”

“I can arrange that.”

Pain seared into Sam’s head. He screamed. Louder than he’d ever screamed before. The most excruciating pain he’d ever felt. His hands went up to his head, his feet kicking frantically beneath him.

“No!” Sam screamed until he was hoarse.

“I told you Sam, you’re going to give in to me. Might as well make it enjoyable, am I right?”

The ropes tightened again and Sam was once again immobile.

Sam began to beg, “Please…please stop…I…please!”

Ruby just smiled, watching him squirm. She wondered if the hunter in the cell below would hear him.

**

Rufus was working on the bars on the window when he heard it again. Yeah, that was definitely Sam. He tried harder to pull at the bars desperately trying to get out…to somehow get to Sam…and then escape. He had to get to Sam. He was so mad at himself for getting caught. He should have known better. He had let his emotions take over. Somehow those Winchester boys found their way into his heart. No one had ever really done that before.  
Sam, specifically held a soft spot in his heart. This young kid who had so much potential, so much power, yet he was so caring of others. Too caring, Rufus thought. Which is why Sam’s probably here in the first place.

The screaming stopped.

Rufus was hoping it was the good kind of stopped, not the bad kind of stopped. He would never forgive himself if Sam died mere rooms away from him. He would never…

Rufus refocused on his task. He had to get out. He had to save Sam. He had to.

**

One floor above, Ruby knew what was going on. She stopped in the hallway, listening. She looked at the floor beneath her and laughed. She knew the hunter was trying to escape. She didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to try and find her, especially with all the warnings she gave. But here this hunter was, putting his nose where it doesn’t belong. She couldn’t really let him go now, could she? But she also knew that if she killed anyone close to the Winchesters, it would make everything else – all her plans, all her hard work – fall apart.

Her directions had been clear. And Dean had followed every single one. This guy must have acted on his own. Maybe she’d give him a break.

“Dammit.” She said, and waved her hand.

**

Dean waited. Alone. He stared at the whiskey bottle. He gripped his hands tightly in his lap, trying to focus on other things. He knew he shouldn’t have anymore. He’d already gotten sick and had a tremendous headache as well.

But the pull was too much. He unscrewed the cap and drank down a large swallow. He no longer felt the burn.

**

The bars disappeared. Rufus knew this must be a trap. He was clearly being allowed to leave. Probably being told he had to leave. Rufus hesitated, not sure what would be waiting for him out there. But he also knew when he had a chance. And he took it. He’d get back to Dean. He’d help them get back to Sam.

He crawled out the window and turned to look at where he had been held. He memorized everything about it. Then he turned around and ran.

**

“It’s time,” said Ruby. “Take him home. It’s time for the next phase of our plan.”

“We’re gonna have to wait a while.”

“Yes, and that’s your fault. I told you not to go so hard.”

The other demon nodded, looking at the floor.

“The hunter is on his way back to the others. Let him go. He’ll tell them where we are. We’ll be long gone by then. It’s actually quite perfect how this all worked out.” Ruby smiled, looking over at Sam, who lay still on the table.

The other demon walked over to Sam and began untying him.

**

Sam felt as if he were…nowhere. He was drifting in a sea of darkness. He hurt everywhere. He felt hands picking him up. Not Dean’s hands. He knew Dean’s hands. Dean’s hands would be gentle. These hands were rough, uncaring. He felt himself being wrapped in something warm and picked up, his cuts and bruises stinging with every touch. Then Sam felt the cool outside air on his face. His cuts stung in the coldness. He felt himself being placed in a car. The world moved around him. He felt disconnected to his body. The pain came and went in waves. Mostly came. He found himself unable to move or speak. Soon he felt the car stop. Someone picked him up and carried him. Sam was cold. Right to his very core, where he was sure his blood was turning to ice. So very cold. Hands pressed on his chest, words whispered in his ear he couldn’t quite hear. His body hitting concrete. A boot kicking his ribs. Shortness of breath. He heard the car drive away. Cold. Alone. Confused. Where was he? He shivered and whatever grip he had on the world slipped away.

**

Dean wasn’t really sleeping anyway, but the pounding on the door made him sit up almost violently, wide awake, reaching for his gun.

Dean ran down the stairs, gun in hand. Who the hell would be banging on the door at 3 o’clock in the fucking morning? If it was another fucking white envelope -

“This had better be fucking good!” Dean yelled as he ripped the door open, gun pointed straight ahead – at nothing. But when he heard the whimpering, he looked down. There, wrapped in a blanket on the front porch, was Sam. He was shivering, covered in cuts and bruises, blood seeping from practically everywhere. He was groaning. His eyes had rolled in the back of his head.

Dean, who had been barely holding it together, finally shattered.

“Sammy!”


	10. Sam's Pain

Dean’s eyes grew wide and tears immediately fell from his eyes. It felt like an enormous weight that had been sitting on his shoulders was finally released. A tremendous shiver coursed through his entire body.

“Holy shit…Sammy! Oh my god! Sam!” Dean set his gun on the table by the door, bent over and quickly scooped up his little brother in his arms, brought him inside and gently set him on the couch. Bobby still wasn’t home from his supply run. Dean remembered he was wasn’t expected home until around noon the next day. And Ellen had left. And Rufus was missing. Of course Sam would come back when Dean was alone. They were watching, he remembered.

“Thank god, oh my god, Sammy…you’re…oh man, look at you. Sammy? Can you hear me?” Dean was shaking. He ran his hands carefully over his brother’s face. His beautiful face, cut and bruised. Dean still thought he was beautiful. Sam was here. He was here. Dean gently kissed Sam’s forehead, trying to hold himself together.

Sam did not reply to Dean’s voice. He was unconscious. His face was purple and dark blue from all the bruising, but he was sweating and shivering. He had a white envelope pinned to the blanket near his chest, which Dean ripped off and set aside. Dean couldn’t stop the tears from falling. His brother was back in his arms, but he had been brutally beaten. He pulled back the blanket and recoiled at what he saw. Sam’s entire torso was covered in black and blue marks. Cuts covered his stomach and arms. They had been made by a knife or razor, from the looks of it. He had been sliced in several places, some deeper than others. Then Dean noticed the puncture wounds. Sam had been stabbed in two places on both of his shoulders. They were precise and neat. Dean shuddered at the thought of Sam being stabbed slowly and intricately.

Sam was moaning, but he was not conscious. He was still dressed only in his boxers, and was shivering from exposure to the cold. Dean noticed Sam was wearing a necklace identical to his. He wasn’t sure exactly what it meant, but figured for right now he’d better leave them both on.

Dean pushed the cold, bloody blankets off to the side gently, revealing his legs. Both of them were covered in bruises, and scratched in some way, and his left ankle was turned inward, probably broken. His arms, too, were splotched with bruises. But the main injury Dean saw were his wrists. He had been in handcuffs or ropes, or both for a long time, hanging for quite some time. They were raw and bleeding. Dean knew Sam was in a tremendous amount of pain.

The pictures he got earlier did not show this much damage.

“Oh Sammy,” Dean wiped his hand down his face as another tear slipped out from his eye.

“I’m gonna take care of you, I promise, little brother. I’m going to make whoever did this to you pay… I’m never going to leave you, never again.” He gently pressed his lips to Sam’s forehead.

Dean made sure Sam was covered in a new clean blanket (he planned on burning the bloody one he arrived in.) and mostly comfortable, and he pulled out his cell phone, calling the doctor their family usually used.

Dean’s was voice was shaky as he spoke. He answered the questions as quickly as he could, he really just wanted the doc here. Now. There was real fear in his voice. “Yeah, I know it’s early. I’m sorry…but it’s really bad, Doc, can you come out? Yes, right now. Yeah, I’m at Bobby’s. No he’s not here right now…I don’t know…Yes, covered in bruises and cuts. No, I haven’t yet. Yes, I think maybe the ankle is broken. Yes, pain meds would be a good idea…Yes. A heated blanket? Ok, I will. Thank you. Please, hurry.” Dean hung up the phone and ran to his room to get the heated blanket. He ran back downstairs and plugged the blanket in, wrapping it around Sam loosely, so as not to aggravate his injuries.

Dean knelt down beside Sam, who still hadn’t stopped shivering. He was moaning and writhing slowly on the couch. Dean tried to keep him still, smoothing his hair back, whispering in his ear. “It’s ok, Sammy. I got you. You’re home now. You’re home. The doctor is coming. Hang in there, baby. I’m here. I won’t leave. I’m so sorry, Sammy…I’m so…I’m here now. I’m always gonna be here.”

Dean suddenly realized that Sam had just been…returned. Whoever had him just - brought him back for some reason. Dean remembered the note that was pinned to Sam. Picking it up from the table, he ripped it open, pulling out the sheet inside. He took a deep breath before he read it.

Dean,

I’m sure you are wondering why I took your brother. You want to know what I did to him. And I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought him back. Well, let me tell you. I think almost four days is plenty. All will be revealed, in time, I assure you. But I did what needed to be done. Sam will heal in time. You may find yourself facing something new, though. You see, in addition to the lovely coloring he’s been given, you should know some spell work – in addition to your own - has also been done. I’m not going to tell you what – just yet.

But Sam is important to me. Believe it or not, I care about your brother.

You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you anything. Well Dean, it’s because I want you to be afraid. I want you to wonder, and panic, and worry. I need you to feel. I want you to feel fear. Your brother has had plenty of fear, and let me tell you how much joy that gives me. I can’t wait to see you suffer thorough finding out all the wonderful secrets Sam now holds.

Be patient, dear Winchester. I will be sure to check in on you from time to time.

And remember, I’m still watching.

Oh yes – I’ll be in touch soon. We’re not done yet.

Ciao

Dean crumpled the letter in his hand and threw it on the floor. His face red with anger (and fear, although he did not want to admit it), he glanced down again at Sam, blood covering his face. He ran into the kitchen and grabbed several washcloths. He ran them under the warm water, then quickly returned to his brother.

Gently, and with great care and precision, Dean wiped Sam’s face with the warm washcloths. With fingers light and tender, he cleaned off the blood on Sam’s face first. He cleaned behind and around his ears and down his neck. Gentle, so gentle. Sam whimpered under Dean’s touch, but did not awaken.

Taking another clean washcloth, he began dabbing at his wounded shoulders. Dean looked at the unusual pattern the wounds made. There was a reason, a specific reason for each of those cuts. A spell. It must have been for the spell the demon mentioned in his letter. Only spell work needed precision like that. Torture just for the sake of torture would look different. The marks would be more random, and each one would likely be different depths. Sam’s were absolutely identical. Dean carefully cleaned away the dried blood, trying not to break open the skin that had already started to heal over.

So gentle. Dean cried silent tears as he continued.

When he was done, he had a pile of bloody washcloths and a clean yet pain stricken, unconscious Sam lying before him. Dean could only wait for the doctor now. He covered him back up with both the regular and the heated blanket and sat back to wait for the doctor.

He sat watching his brother whimper and cringe for what felt like a very long time. He held his hand, which he held tenderly due to the serious injuries. Sam did not grip back, he was just limp in Dean’s arms. Dean smoothed his brother’s hair back, whispering calmly, telling him how he was going to take care of him. He’d be fine. Gently, he kissed his brother’s knuckles.

Suddenly Dean flashed back to that night. The night in the parking lot when Sam disappeared practically in front of him. He had been walking with Sam, their fingers laced together. Sam had gripped back, running his thumb over Dean’s knuckles. Dean had felt a great warmth in his heart. He had stopped, brought Sam’s hand to his face and kissed his knuckles then, too. But on that night, Sam had squeezed his hand in response.

Tonight, Dean kissed those same knuckles, now all scratched and bruised. And Sam was not squeezing back.

“Sammy, I’m…I’m so very sorry. You’re going to be ok. I promise. OK? I promise.” Dean almost couldn’t get the words out, his voice hitching in his breath as he spoke.

“Sam? I…I love you. I should have said it before. But I do. I really do.” Dean had never said the words aloud before. And Sam wasn’t even awake to hear them.

Dean knew Sam had not heard him at all. Except for the twitching and groaning, Sam was not aware of what was going on around him.

Finally, there was a knock at the door. Reluctantly, he let go of Sam’s hand and Dean raced over to let the doctor in. He felt very dizzy when he stood, and stumbled over his own feet. He almost ran into the door as he fell.

Dean recovered quickly, pulling himself up and opening the door. Grabbing the doctor’s hand, he whispered, “He’s over here, Doc.” He led the doctor, who was well aware of what the Winchesters did, into the front room where Sam lay.

Dr. Margo had been the family’s “specialist doctor” for many years. He took care of many different hunter injuries when they were too severe to take care of by themselves, but when it was not feasible to go to the hospital, like with a werewolf bite. He knew the hunter life and what was out there.

Edgar Margo was in his late fifties. He had thinning gray hair and round glasses. He didn’t have a family anymore. When he was thirty-two a wendigo killed his family. His mother, father, and brother died in the attack. His sister, who survived the attack with Edgar, went off to hunt, but she was unskilled, clumsy, and was killed soon after she started. Edgar went on one hunt – and lost his right leg below the knee when hunting a ghoul on his own – effectively retiring immediately. He was thrust into the life. Having already started his own practice, he now made himself available to hunters. Usually with no fee, or little in return. Hunters did what they could though. Edgar didn’t hunt anymore, but he sure was part of the hunter family.

He’s been taking care of the Winchesters ever since Sam was two years old. He knew them well.

It hurt his heart to see such a young, brave, handsome man be in so much pain.

“Oh my…” the doctor paused, placing a hand to his face. He’d never seen a beating quite so bad. He took a few seconds to compose himself, which Dean completely understood. Dr. Margo knelt next to Sam and pulled the covers back. “Holy shit, Dean…” Dean just trembled beside him.

“Has he regained consciousness at all?

“No” was Dean’s flat reply. He stood by and bounced nervously on his toes.

The doctor began his examination, swallowing thickly. He paused after only a few minutes.

“I’m going to give Sam some pain meds first. This will hopefully ease whatever it is he’s experiencing. At least for a while.

“Thanks doc.” Dean whispered. The doctor pulled out a hypodermic needle and injected Sam with a clear liquid.

“This stuff is practically illegal, especially in the high dose I’ve just given him. Hopefully this will help him sleep pain free, mostly through the night, although he might wake up a few times before it really takes hold. This is the most effective narcotic I know of. Sam will likely sleep through some of this pain. But Dean - this damage is extensive and he’ll be in pain for several days. I’ve got some more to give you, but just pills. I don’t want anyone else administering this stuff, ok? He should feel that soon enough.” Dean just nodded, chewing on his fingernail. 

The doctor continued his examination. Sam, even though he was unconscious, grimaced and flinched throughout.

Dean helped the doctor finish wiping down Sam’s body, cleaning all the remaining blood. Fortunately, there was nothing besides his wrists that were still actively bleeding. He looked a little better, but the bruising and visible cuts and stab wounds were still very difficult to look at.

It took almost an hour for the doctor to finish with Sam. After he was cleaned up, he needed several stitches, bandages, and casting of his ankle.

After all this was completed, the doctor handed Dean the pain medication.

“You’ll need to give this to him probably three times a day, ok? Not more than five a day, that would not be good for someone as young as him, ok?”

Dean nodded.

“And his wrists,” the doctor continued, these bandages will need to be changed twice a day, ok? And when you change them, apply the ointment I’m giving you before wrapping it back up. I put it in the bag with all the other supplies you’ll need. Dean tried to follow along, but it was too much.

“What…what do I do next? I mean. What…” Dean couldn’t even finish his sentence. He was utterly in the dark about how to handle this. And by himself, too.

The doctor put a calm hand on his shoulder. “He’s going to need to sleep for a while. Call Bobby, have him come back asap to help you. You’re going to need moral support, too.”

“When will he wake up?”

The doctor shrugged, looking back at the now quietly sleeping Sam. “I’m not sure, Dean, to be honest. He’s been through some pretty serious trauma. Likely he will wake up soon, though. The meds I’ve given him may have eased his pain enough to regain consciousness. But let him sleep. He needs it. Don’t wake him up, ok? He needs to wake up on his own.”

“What if he doesn’t wake up?”

The doctor sighed, “He’ll wake up Dean. But if he doesn’t wake up by maybe three o’clock or so tomorrow, give me a call and I’ll stop by. I’ll be around when you need me. He’ll be ok Dean. He will. But it might take a very long time to heal. In addition to the physical, I’m sure there will be mental trauma, too. Who knows what else these people did. Do you know who took him?”

“Not yet. But here…” Dean picked up the crumpled note that was still on the floor and he handed it to the doctor. He was shaking and he felt dizzy. How could this be real? How could his brother be here, almost broken? Almost dead? Dean thought he had fallen apart when Sam was taken, but now, seeing his brother here in front of him. In so much pain, he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. His knees buckled beneath him.

Fortunately, Dr. Margo was right by his side. He caught Dean and held on to him, helping him steady himself.

“Whoa, steady there, you ok, Dean?”

He paused as Dean just nodded, and he slowly let go. He kept his eyes on Dean as he started to uncrumple the note, watching for signs that Dean may need some additional help. Dean’s breathing was becoming shallow and his skin was starting to pale. Dr. Margo put down the letter and focused on Dean. He reached out and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Hey. Dean. Dean, I’m gonna need you to sit down. You’ll be no help to your brother if you freak out, ok? Or pass out, either. Take some breaths. We’ll take care of this.”

Dean nodded and sat down, thanking the doctor. He knew he needed help too, but Sam would always come first. The doctor went into the kitchen and came back with a glass of water, which he sat down beside Dean.

When Dean was settled, the doctor opened the note and read it, his eyes momentarily going wide. “Ok then, I guess we’ll need to keep an eye out for spell work, too. I was wondering if those knife wounds were specific. All of them went into his skin three inches. And the pattern, too. Ok, well – spells - that really isn’t my specialty. Do you have anyone who could help you with this? Someone you trust?”

Dean started to shake his head and then he closed his eyes. “No, not that I know of.” The doctor knelt next to him and put his hand gently on Dean’s knee. “Call Bobby. Keep Sam well rested, well hydrated, and as comfortable as possible. Call me if there are any dramatic changes. Dean. Be ready for anything.” He pointed at the glass of water. “Drink. But slowly, ok?”

“Thanks Doc, really.”

“I’ll see myself out. Please, just sit here for a bit, rest yourself. Drink the water. Keep an eye on Sam. And as soon as this door is closed, call Bobby, ok?” The doctor smiled gently. Dean was very relieved there was someone they could trust that understood their world.

The door closed and Dean picked up his phone, not wanting to take his eyes off of his brother.

The phone rang twice before Bobby answered.

“Bobby.” Dean’s voice was tired. “It’s Sam. He’s – he’s home. I need you home right now. Please.” The small sob at the end sent Bobby racing towards his place at speeds that would not be recommended by any highway patrol officer.


	11. (The Way) Sam Breathes

At five o’clock in the morning, Bobby tore into the house, leaving the front door wide open. He choked back a sob when he saw Sam lying on the couch all bandaged up and bruised and swollen.

“Son of a bitch, he looks like hell…” Bobby had to stifle a sob.

“Yeah Bobby. You should have seen him before the doc got here.” Dean’s voice was practically a whisper.

“Why the hell didn’t you call me when he got back?” Bobby tore his hat off and threw it across the room. He wasn’t really angry at Dean, but he couldn’t help his emotions.

Dean didn’t really notice anyway.

“I uh…I called the doc first. I had to…you know, I had to get him help.” Dean seemed not completely present in the conversation. He sat on the floor next to Sam’s head, gently stroking his cheek and tucking his hair behind his ear. Bobby understood. He knelt next to Dean and put his hand gently on Sam’s head.

“Yeah, that was a good call Dean. Nice work getting the doctor here right away.” He turned his attention back to Sam. “We’ll get the son of a bitch that did this, Sam. We will.” Bobby whispered close to Sam’s ear.

Dean cleared his throat, which he realized was very dry now. He took a sip of the water the doctor had given him.

“Hey Bobby?”

Bobby looked up, and Dean handed him the crumpled note he had shown the doctor. Bobby read it silently, his lips moving along with the words on the page.

“Good lord, Dean. What the hell?”

“I know, right?” Dean rubbed his hand down his face, wiping away the tears.

On the couch, Sam stirred.

“Ungh…Dean…where …?” Sam’s voice was whisper quiet.

Dean perked up at Sammy’s movements. He could tell Sam was groggy and not very coherent. He was likely in a drug induced haze, not really asleep and not really awake.

“Sammy? Sam, I here. I’m here, ok?”

Sam reached out and grimaced. Dean grabbed his other hand and rubbed his thumb across the back.

“De? S’at you? Where…? Did…d’you save me?” Sam’s breath came out in sharp gasps, showing he was in tremendous pain. His eyes remained closed. His words were slurred.

Dean’s cheeks turned pink. He didn’t want Sam to know, not yet. “Yeah Sammy, you’re safe. You’re home. Bobby is here too.”

Bobby leaned forward, placing a gentle hand on Sam’s forehead.

“I’m here, too son. I’m here. Dean and I won’t leave you, ok? You’re not alone. You’re safe now.”

Sam’s face scrunched up and he let out a small sob. “I dn’t wnt…” his words slurred together and he seemed to pass out again, his eyes never having opened.

Dean gripped Sam’s hand a little tighter, still being careful of his bandaged wrists.

“No one will ever hurt you again, I promise.” Dean whispered in Sam’s ear.

Bobby stood up and placed a hand on Dean’s head.

“I’m gonna call Ellen and Rufus, ok? I’m gonna get them to come back over. They are gonna wanna know he’s home and safe. Alright?”

“Early,” Dean said.

Bobby smiled. “They won’t mind.”

Dean merely nodded, He didn’t want to take his eyes off of Sam.

“D’n…” Sam groaned.

Dean was happy Sam was home of course, but seeing brother like this was almost too much to bear.

He tucked a lose chunk of Sam’s hair behind his ear, and his brother’s eyes fluttered open.

“Sammy?” Dean asked, his voice low, close to his brother’s ear.

“D’n…” Sam sucked in a breath. Tears rolled silently down his cheeks.

“Are you in pain, Sammy?”

“Y…yeah…ya gimme somefing?” his words were very soft, very incoherent.

“Yeah Sammy. We got you all fixed up. You’ve got some strong pain meds in you right now. You have a broken ankle and you are cut up and bruised.”

Sam closed his eyes again.

Dean exhaled slowly. “Please, just rest. You are at Bobby’s, we’re home, ok? We will all take care of you. Let the meds help you sleep. You need to heal, ok?”

Even with the strongest pain meds the doctor had, Sam was still suffering.

“Sam?”

But Sam had already passed out again, his hands going limp in Dean’s grasp.

Dean watched his little brother as he fought through the residual pain. He seemed to calm under Dean’s touch, stroking his cheek and hair, trying to avoid the bruises that covered his face. Dean sat next to him, whispering words of confidence and promises of safety. He watched and waited until Sam’s breathing slowed, then faded into the rhythmic pattern of true sleep.

He couldn’t help it. Sam just radiated peace, even in his sleep. Dean couldn’t look away.

Sam was beautiful when he slept. Dean often waited until Sam was asleep so he could just watch him. The way his lips pulled back a little bit when he breathed. How his eyes were so calm and still. How his chest raised and lowered slowly. Sam didn’t snore, but every once in a while, he’d let out these cute noises. Almost like he was talking in his sleep but unable to make full words. Dean would gently touch his hair, watching his brother and the way he breathed. There was something so peaceful about it.

Except now. Now his face was scrunched up in pain. His breathing was anything but steady. And the little sounds he made were no longer cute sounds. They were sounds made by someone who was scared. Someone who was hurting. Dean couldn’t bear the thought of that. It was almost too much for him.

While Dean was watching Sam, Bobby called Rufus and Ellen.

**

Rufus didn’t answer. Bobby tried three times.

Ellen answered in tears. “The Roadhouse. She’s gone. Burned. Ash is dead, Bobby. And I can’t find Jo.”

Bobby exhaled sharply, his hands rubbing over his face. “Dammit Ellen, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m coming back Bobby. I’ve got to get away from here in case whoever did this comes back. And Sammy being taken. We need to get him back…oh what if the same people took my Jo?” Ellen suddenly became very worried.

Bobby spoke quietly. “That’s why I called you, Ellen. Sam’s home. He’s hurt bad – real bad – but he’s home.”

Despite the loss of her bar and Ash, Ellen was overjoyed to hear Sam was home and started crying again. She said she’d be there within the hour.

Bobby still couldn’t get a hold of Rufus.

**

Dean stroked Sam’s cheek. He whispered close to Sam’s ear, “I’m supposed to protect you. Take care of you. I failed. Sammy, you mean so much to me, I just…I’m so sorry. “

**

Sam lay warm and safe under the blankets, in a haze of narcotics, but he heard his brother. Heard him off in the distance as if he were hearing from a faraway tunnel. He couldn’t hear words, but he knew that voice. He knew that he was safe. He felt Dean’s gentle touch against his skin. He knows hands. Those hands meant safety. Comfort. Love. He wanted to get back to his brother. But he couldn’t reach him. In his dream, he was being held back by unseen hands, not allowing him to get close. Sam fought, though. His hands and feet were tied – but he fought. He knew he wanted to get back to his brother. He knew he had to get back.

**

Dean watched Sam struggle in his sleep. He was clearly having a nightmare. A nightmare that Dean could not save him from. Dean was sleep deprived, worried, anxious, and hungover. He wanted to be the first thing Sam saw when he opened his eyes, so he stayed close to his brother. Sam drifted in and out. At times, he was peaceful, face relaxed, body slack, a soft smile on his lips. In the next moment, his body went rigid, eyes squeezing shut. He looked like he had no control over his surroundings. Dean was sure Sam was dreaming about his torture…reliving it.

**

Ellen came over. The moment he had opened the door, she went rushing into Bobby’s arms. Tears were falling from her eyes. She smelled like soot. She was not injured.

“There were at least ten people in there, Bobby, including Ash. They’re all dead. All of them. I could have been there. Jo too. But we weren’t. Now she’s missing, Ash is dead, and the Roadhouse is gone. Along with a lot of hunters. People with families. This is gonna be a big hit to our community.”

Bobby held her close, rubbing her back soothingly. “I know Ellen, I know. But we’ll get Jo back, too, ok? Now that Sam is back, we can get him healed and start looking for her.”

“Who are these people? Why are they doing this?”

“Demons, Ellen. But we have no idea why. Not yet, anyway. We’ll get there. We will. I know Dean won’t stop until these demons and whoever else is involved is dead. It’s gonna really hurt him to hear Jo is missing.”

“Demons? Demons are doing this? Geez, Bobby, maybe we shouldn’t tell him?”

“No. He needs to know. Who knows. Maybe it’ll fuel his fire. Since Sam got back all he’s done is watch him sleep. At least he’s not drinking anymore.”

Ellen and Bobby looked over to Dean. He was still on the ground, kneeling in front of his brother. He held his hands and kissed his knuckles softly. The whiskey bottle lay next to him on the floor. It was empty.


	12. Another White Envelope

After the first few moments of fitfulness, Sam had eventually slept through the night. Ellen had come over but Sam didn’t wake up for that. She told Bobby she’d stay for a few days if that was ok. She wanted to help Sam. Bobby agreed and they went together to set up the spare bedroom for her.

When Bobby and Ellen were out of the room, there was a knock at the door. Dean looked around to see if Bobby was going to get it, but he must not have heard the knock. Reluctantly, he left Sam’s side. Dean grabbed for his gun and stumbled to the door. He listened, but heard nothing. He opened the door – and found yet another white envelope.

“Son of a bitch!”

Dean’s cry brought Bobby and Ellen back into the room. Dean handed Bobby the unopened envelope, his face red with anger, his fists clenching tightly.

“I don’t want to do this, Bobby. He’s back, why do we still need to do this?”

“Dammit, we have to find the son of a bitch who did this. And we will. Dammit.”

Bobby opened it and read it out loud.

Dean,

I bet you’re happy to have your Sam back. Sorry about the state he’s in. But it needed to be done in order for the spells to hold. Blood Dean. Lots of it. (you do still have the vial of his blood? You’re going to need it later…) And fear. And pain. I got plenty of that from your brother. You know what else? Sam’s crystal lit up. I’m sure yours did too. So that answers our first question. I’m sure you know what that means, am I right?

We needed Sam to be back with you for the next part of this plan of mine.

Sam is going to perform some spells for us. His powers will be growing stronger in the next few weeks. Once he is completely healed, he’s going to help us. He won’t even know it. Oh, it’s nothing dangerous. Not really.

But I need you to do one more thing. One more spell. It will strengthen the last few pieces we need to deal with.

If you do not perform this spell by nine o’clock tonight, someone you love will die.

Guess who?

Ciao.

“Guess who? What the fuck does that mean?” Dean was ready to punch something. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.

“This is really messed up, Dean.” Bobby’s voice grew louder with his rising anger.

“Dean, you shouldn’t have to do anything. Sam is back. We have him, he’s safe, you don’t have to do what they demand of you anymore.” Ellen spoke up, her voice sounding shaky.

“No.” said Dean.

“No? Why no?” Ellen was confused.

“I just want this to be over. I want Sam to get better. I want the letters to stop. I just want Sam to be ok and for everything to go back to the way it was.”

“But Dean…”

“But nothing Ellen. Wouldn’t you do anything for Jo? Wouldn’t you? Sam’s my everything, you know. I have to do this to end it all, ok?”

Ellen sucked in a sharp breath, but nodded. She understood. She understood too well.

“Maybe we can find out what this spell is before we do it, though, ok? Before you do it. I want to know what you’ll be doing, alright? I need to keep you safe too…you got that?”

“Ok.” Dean nodded. “I just want this done.”

“We have a few hours before nine, let’s see what we can find out.”

**

Dean looked at the bottom of the letter, at the spell he was supposed to perform. Dean was supposed to read over Sam, while Sam was asleep, and while they were touching. They both needed to wear their crystals.

“Both?” asked Bobby. Dean pulled the blanket back and showed Bobby the matching necklace. Ellen took a closer look, but didn’t want to touch them. Dean held both of them up. They were identical in every way. And when he brought them together, the both lit up blue.

“Holy…” said Ellen.

“Does this mean…? Does this have anything to do with…with the soulmate spell?”

“Yeah, I don’t know Bobby, ok? I mean probably yeah. It probably does. I don’t know why or how, but yeah…I guess…Sam’s my…my soulmate.”

Ellen shook her head in disbelief. She was entering into new territory. Dealing with information she had no idea what to do with. But she wasn’t disturbed by it at all. After all, she had seen many weird things in her life, right? But this? Soulmate stuff? Brand new territory.

Bobby shook his head, too, but he had a tiny smile on his lips. “I’m not surprised, actually. I mean…you guys are all you have besides us. And you just always had a close relationship, you know.”

“Soulmates doesn’t always mean –“

“Ellen, please don’t say it, ok? We’ve got other things to worry about first. Whatever that is,” he waved his hand, dismissing the conversation, “we’ll deal with that later.”

Bobby and Ellen looked at each other and nodded.

Everyone’s eyes turned back to Sam, still sleeping peacefully.

Dean picked up the letter, and tried to figure out the spell.

**

In small printed letters, at the bottom of the letter, it had read, “Pertera Vegetate Fervor Horn”. This wasn’t an ancient language, it wasn’t Latin. It didn’t seem to be any specific language. Some of those words were English. Or not words at all.

Dean was confused. And a little bit worried. And angry. He thought having Sam back meant it was over. But he worked with Bobby and Ellen to try and figure out the spell work. None of them could figure it out.

After poring over several books and finding nothing, Dean decided he needed to just do it. It was getting close to nine, and they were out of options. Bobby nodded and Ellen just covered her mouth and cried.

Dean pulled out Sam’s necklace and his own as well. He grabbed Sam’s hands and repeated the words on the page. As the words were spoken, both of their crystals glowed, even brighter than before. Ellen gasped. Dean smiled, relieved. It was done. It was finally over. He had done everything they had asked.

Now he needed to protect Sam, let him heal, and watch him carefully. Hopefully he could prevent him from doing any spells in the future – especially if Sam was going to be unaware of them. All he really wanted was a healthy, happy, safe – and alive – Sammy.

A knock on the door made them all jump.

“Balls!” shouted Bobby as he got up and opened the door. He walked back in with a white envelope.

“No…” breathed Dean.

Bobby opened it.

Dean.

Nice job. We won’t need you for a while now. You have done everything we have asked.

Except one. I told you not to look for me. And yet, there is one who followed us. I will deal with him.

You can let Sam heal and wait for further instructions. Because now there will be more.

I need Sam to heal now. He needs to be in peak condition for the next time I need him.

And now that you know for sure – how will you proceed?

Eyes open, Dean. Eyes open.

Ciao.

Everyone in the room had a different thought running through their mind.

“What does he mean there’s one watching him? We all – oh Rufus, you idjit…” Bobby put his hand to his head. He hoped Rufus was still alive at this point.

“What does he mean by ‘eyes open’?” asked Ellen.

But Dean just dropped the note on the floor. What would he do…now that he knew for sure his brother, his Sammy – was his true soulmate?

**

Sam started to groan. He squirmed on the couch, his eyes squeezing shut. “Deeeeean,” he moaned softly. Dean immediately knelt by Sam’s side, taking his hand. Bobby and Ellen came up behind the couch, placing their hands on Sam’s shoulder and chest. Dean gripped Sam’s hand as tightly as he could, trying not to aggravate his injured wrists.

“D’n?”

“I’m here Sammy. We’re all here, Bobby and Ellen and me, ok? You’re safe, Sammy.”

“Uhhh…D’n. Hurts.”

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I know, Sam. It’s ok. We are all here. You’re home. You’re safe, I promise, ok? We’re going to make it better. Hang in there.”

“Dean. Please. Don’t leave me. Please.”

“I’ll never leave you Sam. Never. I promise, ok?”

Sam nodded. He reached out for another hand, “Bobby? Ellen?”

Both of them grabbed his hand and Sam relaxed when he felt their touch.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Bobby couldn’t help but cry. “Sam. Love you, son.”

Sam smiled. “Love you too, Bobby.”

Dean relaxed more and more as Sam woke up. Soon, Sam’s eyes were open all the way and he was trying to smie.

“You ok there Sam?”

“No, not really. Everything hurts so much. But you’re here, Ellen and Bobby and Rufus, too…I know I’m safe.” He exhaled softly, grimacing at the pain he was experiencing.

Ellen and Bobby exchanged looks, knowing Rufus was nowhere to be found. And telling Sam about Jo and Ash was going to be heartbreaking.

It was too soon to tell him, of course. He had already been through enough pain. Adding this would only make things worse. They would tell him eventually.


	13. Sam's Healing

It was almost 1’oclock in the morning. Dean had moved Sam into the second spare bedroom at Bobby’s, right down the hall from Ellen’s room. He sat in the chair, watching Sam sleep. Sam struggled, but managed to make it through most of the night. Dean slept very little, watching his baby brother suffer through horrible pain and the trauma of his memories.

Sam woke up suddenly, and looked directly at Dean. Dean’s reaction was immediate.

“Dean.” Sam gasped. He sat up quickly and winced, putting his hand to his side. His breath cam in sharp bursts.

“I’m here Sam. I’m here.” Dean pulled himself into full alert, any part of him that was dragging closer to sleep left him. He put his hands on Sam’s shoulders, gently pressing him back to the bed, pulling the blankets up around him.

“Dean. Please. Don’t leave me, ok? Please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to go back there. They’re gonna hurt me. They hurt me so much!” Sam’s voice was desperate.

“Sam, you’re safe. I’m here. You won’t ever go back there. Ever. I promise. I’m never going to leave you. I…you know how I feel about you. I’m going to make everything better, ok? I promise. Just rest, ok? Heal. As soon as you are better –‘

“As soon as I’m better I want my surprise, ok?” Sam’s voice was a soft murmur, his face almost buried in the pillow.

Dean was shocked, but Sam’s eyes were closed and he was struggling to hold on to consciousness. Dean couldn’t help but grin. Sam was in there, and he was going to be ok. Dean knew, with those words, everything was going to be ok.

“You…you remember that, Sam?”

Sam’s voice was soft and he spoke slowly. “Yeah, Dean. It was that night. The night they took me. You were walking me towards a surprise. Something for my birthday, right? You still wanna give me whatever that was?”

“Oh, I do, Sam. I do. Let’s get you better, ok? Then yeah, I’ll give you your surprise.”

Sam’s eyes, still closed, crinkled up and he managed a small smile.

“Can’t wait, Dean, “he said, allowing his body to rest completely on the bed again. ”I sure hope I like it.”

“I think you will, little brother. I think you’ll love it.” Dean spoke in a whisper, his lips brushing across Sam’s earlobe. Sam stirred and moaned softly.

“Mmmmm…like that Dean.”

“Me too, Sam.” Dean leaned over and placed a kiss on his brother’s forehead.

**

Dean fell asleep next to his brother. When he woke up a few hours later, he was on his side, Sam’s arm thrown across him. He gently picked up his brother’s bruised arm and slipped out from under Sam’s touch.

“Dammit Sammy.” Dean couldn’t stand seeing his brother so beat up. He readjusted Sam on the bed, making sure his ankle was resting comfortably, tucking the blankets around him again. Today they would find out for sure how Sam was doing.

The doctor was going to come over and give another examination. He wanted to be sure the first few days showed progress, so they wouldn’t have to take him to a hospital. He would check his bruises and broken bones, and the lacerations on his shoulders and wrists.

The doctor had been mostly worried about the wrists. Dean remembered he needed to change the bandages again. He wanted to let Sam sleep, it would probably be more comfortable for him if he wasn’t awake, so he wouldn’t have to experience the pain.

So Dean moved slowly and tenderly. He unwrapped the wrists and exposed them to the air for a few minutes. Then he carefully wiped over the cuts with the cream the doctor had left. Sam twitched a few times, but did not wake up. Dean bit his lip, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Once the cream had been rubbed in, Dean wrapped Sam’s wrists in clean, fresh bandages. He sealed them up with medical tape, and laid Sam’s arms across his chest.

Sam was laying on his back, his breaths slow and even, showing he had not woken up from this experience.

Dean sighed and laid down next to his brother. He scooted up against him and gently pulled his arms around him.

**

The doctor came over around 11 o’clock.

Sam was already awake and waiting in bed. Dean was hanging out with him, sitting beside him, Sam’s head resting against Dean’s shoulder.

He had taken two pain pills this morning, and seemed to be mostly in good spirits.

Bobby came in with the doctor.

“Hey Sam, it’s really good to see you up. How are you feeling?” Dr. Morgan sat on the foot of the bed, setting his bag on the floor.

“I’m ok. The pain meds are helping, but I’m really sore. My shoulders sting and my stomach too. My ankle is throbbing right now, too.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad, you know? Really, the worst part is the bruising. And these cuts you have, we need to make sure they don’t get infected, ok?”

Sam nodded and grimaced a little. “Yeah, I guess other people got it worse, right?”

“Sam, let’s not compare injuries, ok? You have it pretty bad. You’re going to need at least a week to get better, ok? Now, let me check you out. Dean, would you mind moving over a bit while I examine him?”

Dean hesitated but only slightly. He looked at Sam and Sam nodded, telling Dean with his eyes that everything was ok.

So Dean slipped out from under Sam and stood to the side of the room.

The ankle looked the same, and would be in that cast for probably 4 weeks, but Sam would be able to use a walking boot cast once his strength came back.

The gash on his stomach was still seeping a little, and the doctor added more ointment before covering it back up. “Be careful with this one, ok? It’s still very sensitive and the stitches will only hold if you stay still. You’ll have to make your movements slow and deliberate, ok?” He put the tape around the outside of the bandage and looked at Sam’s arms and legs.

“Ok, still heavy bruising, but that should go away in time. Maybe six or seven days, Sam.” Sam just nodded, breathing slowly and listening carefully.

“The slices on your arms weren’t that deep. Those will heal quickly as well. I’ll just re bandage you, ok? He wrapped up the parts of Sam’s arm’s that had the cuts, the ones on his leg wouldn’t need too much attention.

“Ok, now for the stab wounds in your shoulders. You wanna tell me about that? How did that happen, do you remember?” Sam winced, but shook his head.

“I…don’t really remember, no.” But something in his voice told Dean he was lying. He let it go for now.

“That’s ok. Well, you do have some nerve damage. You have muscle tears and disconnected tissue. This will likely never recover to where you were before. I’m sorry Sam, but you will lose strength in your shoulders. But nothing you can’t adapt to, ok? Just adjust. Be careful and don’t push yourself too much, ok?

Sam just nodded. Dean noticed he was starting to stare off, not paying much attention. He was about to step forward when the doctor spoke once again.

“Dean, have you changed the bandages on his wrists like I asked you too.”

“Yeah I did last night.”

“Ok, good, I’m going to change them again and check the abrasions.”

The doctor gently took Sam’s wrists and turned them over, cutting off the bandages. Sam winced when the rope burns were exposed to the air. The skin was completely gone all around both wrists. He hand hung for so long in the ropes, they had cut deeply through several layers of his skin. Sam hitched in his breath, tears falling down his cheeks.

Dean moved to the side of the bed. “Sammy?”

“It hurts so much. It stings. It feels like my wrists are on fire!” He choked back a sob, trying to be brave.

“Well,” said the doctor. “Fortunately they aren’t infected.” Dean took a deep, relieved breath. But Sam just kept crying.

“Please, help, make it stop, it stings so bad…” Sam was starting to sob.

“Ok, ok Sam. I’m sorry. Let’s be sure the wounds are clean ok? I’ll put on more cream, but again. You just need time. When was your last pain pill?”

“About 2 hours before you got here, doctor.”

“Ok, he can have another one in about another 2 hours.” The doctor worked while he talked. He put cream on Sam’s raw wrists and wrapped them with clean bandages. With the cream and the light pressure on the injury, Sam felt better.

The doctor looked at Sam, concerned at his agitated state.

“I think he’s been through enough today. This exam took a lot out of him. Don’t let him get out of bed unless he has to pee, ok?” He turned his attention back to Sam.

“Listen, I’m sorry if I got you upset. I’m sorry I caused you pain, son. You need to rest, ok? Just let your brother and Bobby take care of you. Your job is to sleep, drink water, and relax, ok?”

Sam nodded, still gently sobbing. He was clearly upset and did not want to be kept in bed.

Dean looked worried. “What about his pain, doc? He seems to be really bad right now. Can he take a pain pill sooner?”

Dr. Morgan sighed. “I’d rather he didn’t. He just took one two hours ago, so I’d really like to wait another two. Wait as long as you possibly can.” He looked back over at Sam. “Wait as long as you can son, ok?” Sam just nodded and turned to face the wall. He didn’t want Dean to see his tears. Didn’t want him to know how badly he hurt right now.

Dean nodded solemnly and Bobby walked the doctor out while Dean stayed with Sam.

“I’m sorry Sam. I’ll help you through the pain as best as I can, ok?”

“Sit with me Dean.” Sam held out his hand and Dean took it. He sat next to his brother on the bed and Sam snuggled closer.

“I’m glad you’re here, Dean,” Sam breathed.

“Not going anywhere, said Dean, brushing back Sam’s hair again.

Sam smiled and brought his hand to Dean’s chin.

“Sammy…” whispered Dean.

Even though he was covered in bruises and cuts, Sam’s eyes still shone brightly as he looked up at his brother.


	14. Sam and Dean

“It’s ok Sam. I’m here. I’m not leaving you.”

Sam still looked up at Dean, blinking softly.

“Sam, let’s get you some rest, ok? I’m gonna help you fall asleep. Let me get you some water and I’ll be right back, ok?” Sam nodded and sat back on the pillows, holding his injured wrists to his chest.

Dean came back with water, Bobby following close behind. Bobby pressed his hand to Sam’s forehead.

“You get some good rest, now son, ok? I’ll be right out that door if you need me, ok?”

Bobby placed a quick kiss to Sam’s forehead and left the room.

**

Dean sat down next to Sam on the bad.

“Let’s find you a comfortable position, ok baby?”

Sam sighed softly, closing his eyes. “Like it when you call me that, Dean.”

Dean paused, smiling. He hadn’t even realized he’d said it. “I’ll remember to say it more often, then.” Sam’s weak smile practically melted Dean’s heart.

“Dean?”

“Yeah baby?” Sam’s smile got bigger.

“I want my surprise.”

Dean’s eyes suddenly looked sad. “I…I really wanted it to be special Sam. This won’t be special. It won’t be like I planned it.”

“But it will still be with you. That makes it special.”

“But Sam –“

“Dean? Please? Can you give it to me right here? We don’t have to go back to that parking lot, do we?”

Suddenly Dean remembered the whole set up he’d left behind in that parking lot. He wondered if the blanket and drinks were still there, hidden behind the tree line.

“No Sam, we don’t have to go back to the parking lot.” Dean gently traced the backs of his fingers across Sam’s cheek. 

Dean looked over at his brother, who was staring directly at him. He couldn’t look away from those beautiful eyes. ”We don’t have to go back, but I want to wait until we are alone, ok?”

Sam didn’t look away. “Well, can you give me a hint at least? Of what this surprise might be?” His face was so close. All Dean would have to do was lean down and…but instead he whispered, “Yeah, I’ll give you a hint, baby.” He lowered his head to Sam’s neck and gave a whisper light nuzzle under his ear. Sam shivered at the barely there touch. Dean pressed his lips gently over the soft skin at the bottom of Sam’s ear, giving the tiniest lick, then pulled away slowly. Looking to see Sam’s reaction, he smiled at what he saw.

“Wow Dean. That’s just the hint?” Sam’s cheeks reddened as he blushed.

“You’ll have to wait for the rest, Sammy. I promise, it will be worth the wait.”

“You’re going to make me wait? After that?” Sam’s eyes were blown wide.

“Yep.”

“Jerk”

“Bitch.”

“How about after your nap. I think I can arrange a new special surprise for you.”

Sam frowned. “Alright. I guess I can wait a little bit longer.”

“Ok, well please drink some water first, you haven’t had enough yet. And then we’ll get comfortable? However you want to lay, I’ll stay with you.”

Sam drank the water slowly, finishing almost the entire glass. Dean sat back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him.

“How do you want me, Sam?”

Sam suppressed a grin and put his hand on Dean’s chest.

“Right there, Dean. Right where you are.” Sam slowly lowered his head, resting it against Dean’s chest. It felt warm, and soothing, and right.

“I can hear your heartbeat, Dean. It’s perfect.” Dean wrapped his right arm around Sam, pulling him closer, making him feel safe. Sam gently ran his fingers up and down Dean’s chest.

“It beats for you Sam. It’s strong because of you.”

Sam just sighed, his breathing becoming deeper and slower and soon evening out.

Dean slowly ran his fingers through Sam’s hair, giving soft kisses at his hairline.

In his sleep, Sam’s hand curled up, clutching at Dean’s chest, his hand wrapping around the necklace that hung there. Dean reached down and grabbed the one Sam was wearing.

Although they didn’t know it about the other, both brothers felt warmth surge through them. Dean felt more comforted than he’d been in a long time. And Sam, well Sam just smiled and slept in Dean’s arms.

**

Bobby popped his head in and told Dean they were heading out to get food and they’d be back in a few hours or so. Dean nodded and looked down at Sam, stroking his cheek.

Sam slept for two hours.

Dean was waiting for him.

Sam stirred, grimaced a little at the pain, and opened his eyes. His brother’s gorgeous eyes were looking back at him.

“Hey Sammy,” Dean whispered, as he ran his thumb along Sam’s jaw. Sam swallowed nervously.

“Hey Dean,” Sam’s voice was so quiet, Dean almost didn’t hear him.

“I’m sorry it’s late, but I have a birthday surprise for you. It won’t be what it should be. But when you’re all better, I’ll give you a complete re-do. For now, I hope this will do.”

Dean still held Sam in his arms, as they lay together on the bed. Sam blinked and took a shaky breath.

“Trust me,” breathed Dean, leaning in closer to Sam.

“I do,” whispered Sam.

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. Dean was trembling. But he reached his left hand behind Sam’s head, lightly grabbing his hair and pulling him closer.

Sam’s eyes fluttered closed. Dean paused, looking at his brother’s beautiful face.

“Dean,”

“Yeah Sammy?”

“I like your surprise.”

“Oh baby, I haven’t even started yet.”

Dean leaned closer, his lips touching Sam’s for the first time. Both boys moaned at the contact.

Time slowed down. Dean pressed his lips softly at first, then gaining more courage, he deepened the kiss. And Sam let him. Dean gently nudged Sam’s lips with his tongue, asking him to open for him, which he did. Sam groaned, deep and low. His right arm went up and wrapped around Dean’s back, pulling him down. He winced at the pain in his wrists, but he kept his hand on Dean’s back, fisting his shirt tightly. Dean settled in, lowering his body, their hips touching, never letting his lips leave his brother’s.

He ran his fingers through Sam’s hair, kissing slowly and softly. Tenderly. “Sammy,” whispered Dean when he finally lifted his head for air.

“Don’t stop, Dean,”

“Never gonna stop, baby.”

The kissed for a long time, lazily twining their tongues together.

Each press of their lips felt like they were reaching deep into each other’s soul.

It felt so right. So good.

Dean’s mouth, warm and wet against Sam’s lips, slowly slid down to his neck. Sam craned his neck, allowing Dean more access, gasping and moaning at each touch of his brother’s lips. He worked his way to Sam’s ear, licking and nibbling softly.

“Tell me.” Dean whispered into Sam’s ear, making the younger Winchester shiver. “Do you like your surprise?”

“Dean, it’s perfect.”

Dean cupped Sam’s face in his hands. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you forever.”

“Me too, Dean.” Dean smiled, and slowly moved back to Sam’s lips. They tasted just right. They were perfect. Sam was perfect.

They kissed, hands intertwining, pulling and pushing at each other until their lips were almost sore. They kissed until they were breathless. They finally broke apart when they heard Bobby’s truck pull up outside the house an hour later.


	15. Now What

 

The boys fell asleep in each other’s arms, Sam holding the necklace in his right hand. Three hours passed, and Bobby and Ellen, deciding not to disturb the boys, ate quickly, and quietly went to bed in their own rooms. Sam eventually let the necklace slip from his grasp and rolled over to face the wall. Dean, bladder full, awoke and took the opportunity to pull away, even though he didn’t want to leave Sam’s side. He gently touched his arms, making sure his wrists weren’t rubbing up against anything. He kissed Sam on the cheek, careful not to touch the bruising.

“I’ll be right back Sammy, I promise. I’ll just be in the other room, ok? I’m not leaving you, I promise.”

Sam shifted slightly, mumbling out a few soft “mmmm-mmm’s” but did not awaken.

He backed out of the room slowly, never turning his back on his brother until he was outside of the door. Then he closed the door softly, turning to face the room behind him.

Dean padded softly to the bathroom, not wanting to wake anyone up. The house was dark and quiet.

Until Sam’s screams broke the silence.

**

“Dean? Dean!” The voice from the other room was panicked.

“Dammit!” Dean quickly washed his hands and dried them on a towel, ran them though his hair and headed into the bedroom.

Sam was sitting up, clinging to the blankets, grabbing his side.

“Dean! You were gone! Where…Ah! I didn’t know where…Ah! Dean…I…” Sam grimaced in pain.

“Sam, I’m so sorry!” Dean walked over and sat on the bed, pulling Sam into his arms.

“I’m sorry Dean, I’m sorry, I just got scared. I…I don’t mean to be so much trouble.” He winced when Dean pulled him close.

“Shhh, it’s ok. It’s ok, I gotcha. I’m sorry I wasn’t here Sam. I was just in the bathroom. I didn’t go very far, ok? I promise I won’t leave again without telling you. “

Sam nodded, burying his face into Dean’s neck.

Sam swallowed, closing his eyes. He asked a question Dean was not prepared for. “How…how long was I gone Dean?”

Dean tried to hold back his wall of emotions, but there was just too much. He very nearly fell apart when he said, “Four days Sam. They had you for four days.”

“How did you save me? Did you get the demons? Did you get _her_?”

But Dean didn’t answer. He just looked down. “Sam…”

 “Dean? What…what is it?”

 “They uh…they…” Dean paused, rubbing the back of his neck. He had a hard time looking Sam in the eye. “They actually brought you back, Sam.” He still couldn’t look at him.

Sam’s eyes scrunched up, a confused look on his face. He looked back at Dean, who was staring hard at the floor.

“Dean?” he asked quietly. He swallowed. “They…they brought me back? You saw them? You got them, right? You got both of them?”

“They left you on the porch. In the middle of the night. Took off. We never saw them.”

“You…they what? I’m confused. They tortured me for four days and then just – brought me back?”

Dean was having a hard time forming words. He felt very guilty for not even attempting to look for Sam. When Sam found out Dean didn’t look for him, didn’t try to save him at all, he would never feel the same way again. Dean was terrified. He was just finally starting something with Sam. They had finally connected. Finally decided to pursue this thing they had, whatever it was. And now this. Sam would probably forgive him, but his heart might not. Dean began to cry, afraid it was all over before it even started. He felt the loss of his brother well up inside him, and had to let it out.

“We…Sam, oh Sam, I couldn’t get to you. I’m so sorry.” Dean couldn’t hold on anymore. All the tears, the guilty tears, for not being able to help him, came pouring out of him. He sobbed openly, unashamed in front of his brother.

Dean suddenly sat up, “Sam, you said her. Was it a woman?”

Sam nodded, afraid to turn his head from Dean. Now he was the one stroking Dean’s back, reassuring, him.

“Yeah, Two of them actually – Dean, it’s ok. I’m home now, I’m ok. Yeah, one guy and one chick.” Both demons though, yeah for sure.” Sam shuddered, suddenly remembering Ruby straddling him.

“Oh god…” Sam gasped. He dropped his hand from Dean’s back and fell back onto the cushions.

“Sam? What is it?” Dean’s sobs had subsided, but tears still flowing, he looked up at his brother.

“She…oh man.” Sam closed his eyes, shaking his head, remembering what she did.

“She what Sam?”

“She…I was tied down on this table. My arms and legs were tied down with the ropes,” Sam held up his bandaged wrists, wincing at the pain he remembered feeling. “So she…she straddled me and…moved around. I didn’t want to. I didn’t! But I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to respond that way, I didn’t…she just…” Sam choked on the last few words, ashamed and embarrassed to admit in front of Dean that his demon kidnapper had made him…react that way.

Dean was angry. His tears of grief were turning into tears of rage. His clenched his fists into tight balls.

“She _what_?”  Dean spoke with clenched teeth. Sam turned back to Dean. Dean’s eyes had gone wild, every feature in his face tightened up, redness everywhere.

“She _what_?”  Dean repeated, standing up. His arms were shaking. He was livid. Not only kidnap and torture him, but to touch him like that? Dean was afraid to ask.

“Sam, did she…did she _rape_ you?” speaking those words was like swallowing fire.

Sam face relaxed a little. “No Dean. They never took off my boxers...I don’t think, anyway.  It was so cold. She…She just climbed on me.” Sam swallowed again, embarrassed.

Sam continued, each sentence coming out slowly. “Straddled me. Ground her hips. She…she touched me. Everywhere.” Sam pointed to his chest and his fingers went up to his hair.

“My chest, my…my…um my…down there,” here he paused. He was so embarrassed he felt the blush rise like fire in his cheeks. Had to pause because he didn’t want to remember, “And she kissed me.” Sam closed his eyes, tears falling to the pillow below. His voice turned into a whisper. “I kissed her back. They loosened my ropes. Let me touch her. I was confused. I didn’t know. I mean I didn’t want…” Sam couldn’t finish. His breath coming in small sobs.

Dean unclenched his fists, gently shaking them out. His face relaxed, and he sat next to Sam again, taking his brother’s hands in his.

“Sam. Oh Sam I’m so sorry.” Sam just held on to Dean’s hands, holding them close to his chest.

“Can we stop please? I really don’t want to talk about this anymore. I really am in a lot of pain right now and I don’t want to think about – I don’t want to remember –“ Sam just held on to Dean’s hands, holding them close to his chest.

I know Sam, it’s ok. We’ll let you get some rest. We can talk more about it when you are ready, ok?”

“Can…can I have a fucking pain pill _please_?” Sam’s question came out strained and he laughed. “I didn’t mean to sound that desperate, really. It’s just…my stomach…and thinking about…” Sam grabbed his side again.

Dean shook his head. “It’s ok Sam, here ya go.” He had reached behind him to get the pills and water that were sitting on the table. Sam quickly took two pills and relaxed slightly.

“Thanks. Thank you Dean.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” Dean muttered as he put the bottle of pills and glass of water back on the table. But Sam heard him. He looked carefully at his brother. He seemed to be contemplating something in his head. He smiled ever so slightly.

 “Hey, Dean.”

“Yeah…” Dean breathed heavily, tears now falling silently.

“Dean, it’s ok. I know you’re upset. You think you didn’t save me. But you did.” Dean looked up at him, confused.

“No Sam, I –“ Dean began, but Sam reached up and caressed Dean’s cheek. You did save me. Because when I was there. When they were hurting me, when she was touching me, I thought of you. In my mind I went to you. You kept me safe in there. I pulled inside myself to where they couldn’t hurt me. And it was with you, Dean. With you.”

Dean couldn’t find words, his mouth falling open.

Sam continued, “In my mind you were fighting desperately to get to me. It’s what kept me going Dean. It was you. Besides, I’m sure you had reasons, right? I mean, they probably threatened you or something. I know you wouldn’t just sit there. Right?”

Dean nodded. He thought Sam would never forgive him. He thought for sure Sam wouldn’t want to be around him anymore. He was relieved…until he remembered the spells. Dean had done those spells. He had done those things to save him, but he still didn’t know the consequences. Sam would surely hate him then. He knew he was keeping secrets from Sam. Secrets about the spell work. He didn’t know how he was going to tell him.

And Sam, desperately wanting Dean to rescue him, but Dean never came. Yeah, Dean was pretty devastated by all of it. They’d have so much to work through now. But he held Sam close, Sam’s breath in his ear, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He pulled away and threaded their hands together.

“It’s gonna be ok, Dean. It will.”

And Dean cried again, knowing his brother was so much stronger than him. He had failed Sam. And he’d never forgive himself.

Sam just held him until his tears dried up.

He pulled Dean’s face to him again, looking at his eyes, his nose, his lips. Dean unconsciously licked his lips and Sam shuddered. Dean pretended not to notice.

Sam looked at Dean’s eyes again and smiled in that gentle, soft way that only Sam could.

“It’ll be ok.”

They sat there for several minutes, just looking at each other. Sam’s smile was slowly growing wider.

After what actually felt like an eternity, Dean had to physically pull himself away from Sam’s gaze. “You feeling better?” Dean had to look away from Sam’s eyes. As swollen and bruised as he was, Sam’s eyes were still beautiful. He covered for it by glancing at his other injuries, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

Sam giggled. “That tickles.”

“Pain meds kicking in, then I take it?” Dean smiled, looking past Sam’s eyes, relieved to have some conversation going.

Sam nodded. “Pain is going away a little. I feel a little loopy, though. Hey, wasthis?” His words starting to slur together, Sam reached down and grabbed the necklace resting on his chest, as if he was noticing it for the first time. He rolled it between his fingers, holding it close to his eyes. Dean swallowed nervously, his identical necklace tucked away under his shirt.

“D’n? Wasthis?” Sam looked up at Dean, keeping his fingers on the crystal.  Dean was about to open his mouth when Sam suddenly flinched. “Whoa…s’is warm…Dean, w-warm!” Sam was enthralled at what was happening. Below Dean’s shirt, Dean felt warmth against his skin. His necklace was getting warm, too.

Dean took a deep breath. “Sam, there’s some things I have to tell you ok?” Sam turned to Dean, hearing the nervousness in his voice.

“Yeah D’n?”

“There’s a lot, actually, but you’re about to pass out, so I’ll tell you just one thing now, ok?”

“Lots to tell me?” Sam’s eyes were becoming glassy.

“Yeah Sam. But just look at this.” Dean pulled out the matching necklace and held it out. Sam’s eyes went wide, holding his out, too.

“D’n?

Sam was confused. He was even more confused when Dean held his next to Sam’s and they both glowed blue.

“I don’t know Sam. There is a lot to talk about and explain. But right now just know that these things mean something. Something big. I have so much to tell you…” Dean was starting to worry again. How was he going to…

“Soulmates,” breathed Sam. He was staring at the necklaces, suddenly very focused. He looked back up at Dean, tears in his eyes.  “Right D’n?”

Dean gasped.  He pulled back a little and the blue lights dimmed and faded away. Sam let his necklace drop back to his chest. He laid his hands on top of it, resting them gently, flinching slightly at the pain in his wrists. Sam looked up at Dean and blinked. The tears that had welled up slid down his face. He gently closed his eyes, the pain pill finally washing over him.

“I knew it.” Sam whispered, a smile on his lips as he continued mumbling, “was right…D’n…said so…I…I was…I was…never…gonna…” soon his words became softer until he finally stopped talking and slowly drifted off to sleep.

Dean could only stare, his mouth open slightly. He shook his head. Sam could never know. Never. Sam knows they’re soulmates now, but if he finds out what he did all those years ago – Dean’s not sure how Sam would react. He breathed shakily, begging to whoever was listening to keep his secret safe.

He watched Sam sleep for an hour before he snuggled closer, drifting off in the warm embrace of his brother.


	16. Sam's Spell

Sam had a fitful night. The earlier pain pill had helped, but he woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat. Dean immediately woke up and pulled Sam close to him.

“Bad dream?”

Sam breathed quickly. “Yeah. And it hurts. The pain is back.”

“Hang on a sec, ok?” Dean went to get a washcloth and held it under the cold water. He wrung it out and came back next to Sam. He wiped away the sweat and tears and smoothed back his hair, wiping gently.

“It’ll be ok Sam. I’m here. I’m not leaving you again. I promise.” Dean gave Sam another pill and a full glass of water, which Sam took gratefully.

Dean crawled up beside him, resting his head on the pillow next to Sam, so their eyes met. He ran his fingers through Sam’s damp hair.

“Need you, D’n,” Sam said slowly, letting out a deep breath. They lay there for a while, Sam trembling, Dean reassuring him with soft kisses and gentle touches.

Not much was said between the two of them. They were tired, it was the middle of the night, and Sam hurt. Dean just felt bad. They held each other for a long time, stroking each other’s skin. Sam continued to tremble under Dean’s touch.

Dean couldn’t resist the pull. It was almost as if Sam’s skin sucked him in. He bent his head down and began to nibble and kiss Sam’s neck. Sam moaned softly.

“Feel good Sammy? Does my touch help you?” Dean’s voice was almost like a drug. Sam shivered underneath his brother, his body sagging into the mattress.

Sam sodded sleepily. “Yeah, De. You make me feel good.”

Dean smiled into Sam’s cheek. “I’m so glad baby. I’m never going to stop, ok?”

“Yeah D’n. Never stop. I want your hanns…on…me…” Sam’s words began to slur as the pain meds kicked in. Dean rubbed his hands up and down Sam’s arms very gently, kissing the soft spot under Sam’s ear.

Eventually, Sam stopped shaking, his eyes closed and he drifted off.

Dean watched his brother, face covered in bruises, slowly fall asleep. He watched his breathing change into a slow, easy rhythm. It was another hour before sleep finally took Dean.

**

Dean dreamed about rescuing Sam. He charged in, killing everyone in sight. He untied Sam and carried him off in his arms. He got there before they broke his ankle, before they stabbed his shoulders. He killed everyone. He saved Sam.

He awoke in a cold sweat. Terrified. He wasn’t a hero. Sam was hurting because of him. Because of what he did.

**

Sam slept through the rest of the night. Dean was grateful that Sam finally got rest.

When he woke up, he looked right at Dean. Dean was sitting next to him on the bed, once again watching him sleep. Dean’s fingers were brushing through Sam’s hair.

“Morning, D’n” Sam said sleepily.

Dean smiled. “Mornin’ Sammy. How do you feel today?”

Sam sighed and pushed himself up on the bed, wincing as he moved. “Much better. Still sore. Fucking ankle and this gash on my stomach, mostly. Everything else is better. Just tired and sore.”

Dean was relieved. “I’m so glad to hear that baby.” Dean leaned in close to Sam. “This ok?” he whispered. Sam merely nodded. Dean’s slow kiss was gentle and soft. He leaned back and smiled.

“Now I’m even better,” said Sam.

~~

 “Come here Dean.” Sam pulled his brother close, trying not to aggravate the wounds on his shoulders. “Help me up, please.”

They had been lying in bed together for an hour or so. Just talking, snuggling, touching. Dean was so thankful to have Sam back, and Sam was just happy to have Dean hold him, help him heal. He really did feel better in Dean’s arms.

Dean gripped his brother’s arms tightly but carefully, and helped Sam to sit up. But Sam wanted to keep going. He motioned for Dean to help him stand.

“Are you sure?”

Sam nodded.

“Ok, I’m right here though, ok? I won’t let you fall.” Sam nodded again.

Grimacing in pain, Sam stood all the way up. He was a little wobbly on his feet, as his ankle was in a cast, and he had to keep all of his weight on his right foot – and Dean.

“You ok?”

Sam nodded, but tears were starting to fall.

“Oh Sammy. I’m so sorry.” Dean pulled Sam into a gentle hug, avoiding his shoulders. Sam practically melted into Dean’s embrace. Being in his brother’s arms again felt wonderful. He truly felt safe and protected. Like he belonged there. Dean held him close, running his fingers over the back of Sam’s neck. Sam shivered at the touch.

Sam sniffled. The pain was coming back in waves, but he didn’t say anything about it to Dean. He tried to stay upright, but the pain was knocking him off balance.

Dean pulled his brother tighter into his embrace. Sam closed his eyes, and let the feelings of comfort and safeness wash over him. Having his brother hold him was the only thing he wanted right now.

That and to have the pain go away. He couldn’t hold himself up anymore and sagged in Dean’s arms.

Dean caught the weight of his brother before he crumpled to the floor.

“Sammy?”

“Dean, I’m sorry, I can’t…it hurts too much. I…I shouldn’t have done that. I just…I just wanted to hold you a bit. Really hold you. You make me feel safe. But I can’t…” Sam looked ashamed.

Dean frowned and set Sam down gently, wiping away the tears that were falling. He helped Sam get adjusted on the bed and gave him a pain pill.

“Here you go Sam, this will help. You’ve waited long enough.” He sat on the table in front of the couch and smoothed back Sam’s hair. Sam closed his eyes at the feel of his brother’s touch, sighing.

“I make you feel safe?” Dean couldn’t hide his smile.

Sam’s eyes stayed closed as Dean continued to pet Sam’s hair, and softly stroking his cheek.

Sam breathed out a soft, “Yeah. It’s that…thing we have. It feels a little stronger. Maybe because I’m in so much pain. But you being with me, by my side. Touching me. I just feel stronger. More alive. Know what I mean?”

“Yeah Sam. I know exactly what you mean.” Dean stroked Sam’s cheek.

“I’m so glad I can do that Sammy. I’m just sorry I couldn’t protect you that night. Or get you home any earlier. But I’m going to make up for all of that, ok? I’m going to make sure you get better real fast. And take the pain away as best as I can.”

Sam nodded, opening his eyes and blinking slowly.

Dean helped Sam to turn his body and lower his head to the pillow and covered him up with the blanket. “You wanna go back to sleep for a bit? Why don’t I go make you some soup and wake you up in a couple of hours, ok? Sam agreed quickly.

“Yeah.” Sam swallowed, closing his eyes.  “Just standing up tweaked my stomach wound and I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah. Too much, too soon. Hey listen. I’m gonna wait until you fall asleep, and then I’m gonna go talk to Bobby about what to do next.”

Sam nodded again, “Yeah ok, Dean.” Dean lay next to Sam, running his fingers through his hair again. He whispered gently, “I’m here Sammy. Not going anywhere. Always gonna be with you now. Always gonna protect you forever. I promise, little brother. I will keep you safe.” Dean continued to whisper promises in Sam’s ear, breathing into his neck. Sam closed his eyes, leaning into his brother’s touch, and fell asleep soon after.

“I’ll be back Sam. I’m right on the other side of this door, ok?” He leaned forward and gently kissed Sam on the forehead. He tucked the blankets in around him and walked out into the front room, closing the door behind him.

**

Ellen and Bobby were sitting at the kitchen table when Dean walked in.

Bobby stood up and walked over to Dean. “How is he? He sleep ok?”

Dean nodded.

“Yeah, he had a nightmare and I had to give him a pill at like 1 in the morning. We’ve been up a while, actually. He just went back to sleep for a bit.”

Dean went to join them at the table, stopping for a glass of whiskey on the way. Booby noticed his choice of drink but didn’t say anything.

“Any news about anything else?”

“Nothing about Jo, no.”

“And are we going after the demons that took Sam?”

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

“You expecting anyone, Bobby?” asked Ellen, pulling her gun out.

“Nope.” All three hunters drew their guns, walking to the front door. Bobby yanked it open.

No one was there.

“Son of a bitch!” yelled Dean. He bent over and picked up a white envelope.

**

_Dean,_

_I bet you’re wondering why I’m writing to you again. I bet you thought it was all over? Let me assure you, you are still under my control. I’m still watching. I may have returned Sam, but I can guarantee you it is not the same Sam that we took from you._

_You still have things to do for us. And I’d watch Sam if I were you. Those cuts on his shoulders? Stab wounds. But I think you knew that. Spell work. We’ve infused Sam with something special. I’m not sure when it will take hold, but probably soon. Then he’s going to do everything I want him to do._

_I’m sure Sammy has told you about me? Oh yes. Sweet Sammy is going to be mine._

_All you need to do is take care of him. Help him heal. You specifically, Dean. It needs to be you._

_Remember, we are watching. I can still kill him. Even from here. You won’t be able to stop me. All I have to do is chant six little words and your brother drops dead.  You won’t see it coming and you can’t stop it. It’s a powerful spell._

_So just do what we ask you to do._

_Your only job now: keep him healthy and strong. Help him heal. Don’t let him leave the house. I’m sure these instructions are easy enough to understand._

_Ciao_

**

Dean had read the letter aloud. And everyone was at a loss for words. Dean shoved the letter into Bobby’s hands. “I’m gonna go check on Sam.” He practically ran to the bedroom, and flung open the door.

Sam stirred in his sleep when the door was opened. Dean looked at his brother sleeping and took a deep breath. He clenched his teeth and swallowed. Sam squirmed a little on the bed, and Dean was afraid he was in pain again.

He paused, thinking. How was he going to keep his brother safe if she could just kill him from anywhere? Dean felt helpless. He sank to his knees in the doorway. His fault. This was all his fault. And how did she know? How did she know what he did? Has she been watching them this whole time? More than ten years? He allowed himself a minute, breathing deeply, then steeled his resolve and stood up.

He’d have to tell Sam what he did.

~~

As Dean walked back in the room, Ellen was answering her phone.

“Yes? Hello? Oh my god, Jo! Sweetie are you ok?”

Everyone in the room was immediately on high alert. They all stared at Ellen, who was starting to cry. They could only hear this side of the conversation, but they listened carefully.

“Yes, yes. I did! I know, are you…how did you get out?  Uh-huh…. Yes, he is, I’m sorry… I don’t know yet, Jo. No…Are you…? Yes! Actually he’s here, he’s pretty banged up. Sleeping now.  When can I…you’re going to what?  No…come to…no, come to Bobby’s first, ok? Please? Ok, honey I love you, I’m so glad you’re ok! Uh-huh…bye, sweetie.” Ellen hung up and collapsed onto the couch.

“She’s ok!” Tears of joy fell down her cheeks as everyone took turns giving her hugs.

“Is she coming here?”

“Yes. She has a lot to share with us when she does, too. She…said she knows who took Sam and she knows where they are. She’s gonna help us get to them.”

“How does she –“ Bobby instantly had doubts.

“Does it matter?” yelled Dean. “She knows! She’s ok, she’s coming here, and she can help us get the sons of bitches that did this to Sam!”

“Yeah, ok Dean. Ok. Just seems a little too good to be true.” Bobby crossed his arms and frowned.

Dean looked at him questioningly.

“Well, it’s all just too easy, isn’t it?” Bobby rubbed his hand down his beard.

“It might be, but right now, we’ve gotta trust that this is just going to be the break we need. All the other stuff doesn’t even matter. Right?” Dean’s voice was desperate.

“Ok Dean. We’ll just see what she tells us, ok?”

**

On the other end of the phone Ruby hung up and smiled. “I think I did a pretty good job, don’t you? Made myself sound just like you, didn’t I, pretty girl?”

Jo’s eyes were wild as she thrashed in her restraints. She was bound and gagged, her arms tied behind her.

“I don’t think I need to hurt you too much sweetie. Just enough to get Sam to finally use his powers. Once he knows I have you, he’ll think I’m going to do the same to you as I did to him. He’ll do whatever I ask. For now, no one knows.” Ruby’s black eyes gleamed as she pulled out a large knife. “But I am going to hurt you a little. What fun would it be if I didn’t?”

She put the knife to Jo’s arm and pulled down, making a thin crimson line appear. Jo screamed in pain, terrified of what was going to happen next.

“They think you’re on your way. No one is going to come looking for you yet. Just sit tight, and have some fun.”  She pressed the knife to Jo’s throat and whispered, “sanguinis pura et sanguinem malum - invocate eum.” Jo swallowed, afraid to move. Ruby drew her knife across Jo’s throat - just a very small amount. Just enough to draw a small line of blood. Jo began sobbing, tears falling from her eyes.

“And when he knows?” Ruby smiled, tightening her grip on the knife, looking off into the distance. “When he knows, he’s gonna do the spell.  Finally. After all this time. It’s perfect. He won’t even know he’s doing it.” Her eyes flicked black again and Jo flinched.

“Sam’s Spell is gonna change everything.”

**

Sam sat bolt upright up in bed. He was covered in sweat and panting. “Jo!” he screamed.

Dean ran in from the other room and pulled Sam close. Sam was gasping, “She – she’s in danger Dean. She’s hurt!”

“No Sam, it’s ok. It’s ok. She called us. She’s coming home. She’s ok.”

“No. No. She what? She called?”

Dean nodded. Yeah Sam, she called earlier while you were asleep before. She’s coming back here.” Dean stroked Sam’s hair, trying to get him to calm down.

“No. No, she’s not, Dean. I feel it. I know it. I think…I think Ruby might have her.”

“Ruby? Are you sure?”

“Yeah Dean. I heard her. I felt her call to me. And…and I heard Ruby, too. She said she hopes I can hear this.”

“Hear what?”

“I think she wants me to hear Jo. Or maybe to hear her. I don’t know. But I don’t think she’s done with me Dean. I’m not safe yet. I’m not…not…not…safe.”

“Shh, it’s ok Sam. I’ll. Lemme go get everyone and we can figure this out.” He left Sam alone, grimacing and sweating, panic all over his face.

In the other room, Dean explained to them Sam’s dream, or vision, or connection, or whatever it was. Ellen turned pale.

“But…it was her voice…”

“Sam says it was Ruby trying to sound like Jo. Demons can do that, you know.”

“Well what the hell do we do now?”

“Now it’s my turn,” said a voice from behind them. They turned and saw Sam leaning against the doorframe, pale and sweaty. He stood on his right foot, having hobbled from the bed on his broken ankle. “I think I know how to find her. The demons want me, not her. But we’ve got to get to her. Faasssst.” Sam’s last word came out slurred. His eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled to the floor.


End file.
